


Crash Into Me

by endlessandinfinite



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Ableist Language, Angst, Bipolar Disorder, But its still a love story, Child Abuse, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Even saves Isak, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Isak is DEEP DEEP DEEP in that closest, Isak just has a lot of issues ok, Isak saves him back, M/M, PTSD, Past Sexual Abuse, Referenced Suicide Attempt, Self-Harm, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Smut, This is gonna be a wild ass ride, heavy drug use, join me for the journey?, lots and lots of angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2018-10-30 12:34:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 155,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10876893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endlessandinfinite/pseuds/endlessandinfinite
Summary: One boy who loves with his entire soul. Another boy who barely knows how to love at all. This is what happens when a shattered mind meets a lonely heart.Or: a story where Isak is a little more broken and Even is a little more open. But they love each other all the same.





	1. This House is Not a Home

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! So, this is going to be my very first Skam fic...so don’t be shy when it comes to love or even helpful criticism! Let me know if you enjoy it with some comments and kudos! & let me know if I should continue posting!
> 
> Also just a few notes before you start….
> 
> 1\. What I know about Norwegian schooling/culture I have learned from Skam itself and google (and we all know how accurate that can be). So my apologies about the Americanization of some of these situations. I totally respect Norway and it’s rich culture and history that I am slowly but surely learning more and more about. I will try to keep it as accurate as possible but I’m bound to make mistakes. So please forgive me in advance and I hope I don’t offend anyone! & feel free to leave comments to kindly educate me.
> 
> 2\. This fic is going to get dark. Like, really really dark and angsty. As you can tell from the tags above this story deals with some very, very heavy subject matter. That being said...this IS A LOVE STORY AT HEART between Isak and Even. Just remember to proceed with caution. Also, I’d just like to say that I do not condone any of the behavior represented in this fic nor do I encourage it! This is just my dark creativity coming out to play!
> 
> 3\. Even is going to be bipolar in this story. Anything involving his disorder (feelings wise) is based off of my own personal struggle with the same disorder. It’s okay if your experience with the disease has been different! Everyone’s is.
> 
> 4\. Other than that I just want to say thank you so much for taking the time to even click on my fic! I’m not going to have a regular updating schedule but I’m going to try my best to update as often as possible. Buckle up and I hope you enjoy the ride!!!!
> 
> 5\. Oh! Also, some of Isak’s life experiences in this story may cause him to be slightly OOC from the Isak that we know but as the story goes on you'll learn and understand why. Also, no worries because….he’s still the same super cute, shy, grumpy Isak we all love when he’s around Even :) 
> 
> Ignore silly spelling and grammar mistakes please. I edit myself the best I can but I'm sure I miss a lot of shit.

_“I don’t like the person I’ve become; I don’t like what the sadness has done to me.”_

_......_

His eyes are blue and sparkling. Soft yet intimidating. Strong and unbothered. Unfocused but extremely clear. He’s new here. He has to be new here because Isak has never seen him before and Isak has seen everyone. At least everyone or anyone that looks like _that_.

The boy practically glides across the school yard, so at ease, so in control. The sun hits his face softly - touching his porcelain skin gently and making the lighter shaded highlights in his dirty blonde hair stand out. He’s wearing a snug fitting jean jacket that he seems completely unashamed of, a pair of black sunglasses rest on top of his head even as more and more clouds begin to roll in above. He’s completely unbothered by it.

Isak feels a sudden wave of envy begin to creep into his body, crawling it’s way into his chest and settling there comfortably. He feels his body sink in on itself slightly as he pulls his scarf high on his neck. Isak is jealous of how comfortable this boy looks with himself. So steady and sure and calm. Those are the very last words that Isak would choose to describe himself as.

“Yoooo, earth to Isak, what you lookin’ at?”

Isak shakes his head quickly, ridding himself of his thoughts pretty easily. Isak is good at things like that - changing the subject, avoiding. Always has been.

The hand being waved in front of his face is wild and familiar. Jonas. His best friend.

Jonas tries to follow Isak’s previous gaze but fails to find anything interesting or amusing in it’s line. He turns back to his friend with his thick, dark eyebrows raised in question. He leans lazily on the cement post beside him, signature red beanie pulled down over his dark brown curls, resting just above his eyelids and a skateboard resting beneath his arm.

“Nothing,” Isak shrugs indifferently, adjusting the straps on his backpack, kicking the ground, and lying only a little bit, “I just haven’t been able to sleep lately. Guess I've been zoning out.”

It was slightly true. Isak hadn’t been sleeping well lately but then again, Isak never really has slept well, ever.

There’s a noticeable pause, Isak leaves his eyes focused on the gravel beneath his dirty old sneakers. The wind that hits his face is cool and refreshing. He inhales deeply, letting his lungs fill with the freeness of this moment.

“You know,” Jonas finally replies after a beat - his voice is so suddenly soft and genuine that Isak has to look up. Brown eyes meeting green. “You can crash at mine whenever you want. My mom doesn’t have a problem with that.”

And Isak can’t help it - his chest fills with warmth and his lips turn upwards just slightly at the edges. There is no one in the world that Isak cares about more than Jonas, maybe besides his sister. Like, truly and really cares about because he truly and really knows him. Isak isn’t sure he truly knows anyone else in the world. Not even himself.

But Jonas. He knows Jonas. Jonas with his crooked wide smile and stupid jokes that no one laughs at but himself...and Isak. Jonas with his sarcastic bite, lazy demeanor, and kind heart. But right now Jonas’ eyes are serious, letting his friend know that he means it. He understands. Jonas doesn’t know the whole story and he probably never will, but he knows enough. He knows enough to know that Isak needs a place to stay sometimes.

When his mom gets too crazy - yelling bible verses at Isak and ripping up his school books. When his dad gets too rough - leaving purple-ish yellow marks along Isak’s arms and stomach.

But Jonas never asks questions - he knows Isak won’t answer, so he takes the pressure and guilt off of Isak’s shoulder. He just lets him know that he’s there, that he’s always there, with open arms and a ton of weed. The only real time Jonas asked questions was the very first time things got bad. The first time things got bad enough for Isak to run. At lot has changed since then but there is one thing Isak is sure of, ever since that night, Isak hasn’t stopped running. He’s an expert at running from things.

“Thanks, bro” Isak says back seriously. He smiles softly at his friend, “I’ll crash tonight if that's cool.”

Last night got pretty bad at his house and he wasn’t really looking forward to going back.

Jonas nods and smiles, dropping a hand on his friend's shoulder for comfort “Sure, sure, man.”

“What’s up fellas?” Isak rolls his eyes as both he and Jonas turn to their left. Magnus has a wide contagious smile spread across his face, practically bouncing over to the other boys - his cheeks are stained a rosy red from the cold, his bright blonde hair tugged messily under a wool hat. Mahdi trails quietly behind him - shaking his head and rolling his eyes - silently warning Isak and Jonas whats to come.

When Magnus reaches them he throws a careless arm around Isak’s shoulder and laughs loudly at nothing in particular. Isak groans.

“Guess who finally got laid last night?”

_Here we go._

**.**

.

.

“I’m telling you guys it happened! Her name-”

“Magnus,” Jonas sighs, for what seems like the millionth time since the blonde boy had started his fictional story. “You’ve told this story twenty times in twenty different ways and the girl’s name changes every single time.”

Isak lets out a loud unattractive snort, not bothering to look behind him to see the scowl on Magnus’ face or the smirks on Jonas’ and Mahdi’s.

“Whatever,” the wounded boy mumbles “It totally could of happened.”

“Yeah, totally.” Isak agrees sarcastically as he focuses on the work in front of him. He is carefully dividing the drugs up, scraping the new shiny razor against the cold glass again and again, trying to get the white lines as straight as possible. He feels the saliva pooling in the back of his throat at the sight of the drugs - and the freedom, the mindlessness, the pure bliss that comes along with them.

He itches his nose, sniffing sharply.

He doesn’t see as Jonas furrows his brow, casting a nervous glance towards the other boys. They’ve always done a few things here and there. Usually every few weekends. Some Coke on Saturday, maybe some Ecstasy the next, but never too much and nothing too serious. But lately they’ve noticed Isak has been partying a little more than usual. Drinking one too many beers even on a Monday night, slipping a small pill onto his tongue in the school bathroom on Tuesday, rubbing the bitter white powder along his gums seemingly discretely on a Wednesday morning.

Jonas has tried to bring it up subtlety.

_You sure you want another beer, bro? We have classes in the morning._

_Dude, Miss T is totally going to notice your pupils that fucking big._

_Where’d you even get that coke, Isak? I thought I was your hook-up._

But Isak just shrugs him off every single time with a forced chuckled and an eye roll.

_Dude, chill out. When did you become such a little bitch?_

But it’s Friday night and this is what they’ve always done on Fridays. So, Jonas doesn’t say anything. Even though he wants to ask - he wants to ask Isak where he’s been getting the Coke ever since Jonas stopped hooking him up with his weed connect, he wants to ask his friend why he’s so eager for it, he wants to tell him to slow down - they just fucking got there. But he doesn’t. He let Isak pull him and his friends into the upstairs bathroom of Eva’s house as soon as they walked through the door, he let him pull out a little baggy of white sweetness and a carefully tucked away razor blade.

Magnus shrugs in Jonas’ direction - he’s never been good with words or...helping.

“Oh, fuck you, Isak,” Magnus tries to move past the unnoticed awkwardness “When was the last time you hooked up with a girl?”

Isak rolls his eyes. “Doesn’t really matter when the last time was,” He says, already smiling at his own jab “At least it’s happened before. Period.”

Jonas can’t help it. He laughs. “Oh, shit” He shoves a pouting Magnus “There was no mercy with that one.”

Iask turns - a smile on his face and a dull glint in his eye.

He’s ready for madness.

“You guys ready?”

Magnus and Mahdi both only snort one line.

Jonas snorts two - his tolerance slightly higher.

Isak snorts four. Jonas doesn’t say anything about that either.

.

.

.

Isak groans as he rolls over, trying the escape the bright morning light peeking through the window beside him. He feels his arm land heavily on something warm and hard beside him. It isn’t until he hears the loud, harsh grunt that follows that he realizes he’s not alone. He didn’t go home last night.

“Fuck, Isak,” Jonas groans out beside him, pushing his friend's arm away and off his chest - rubbing the now red spot. “Watch what the fuck you're doing.”

Isak burrows his face deeper into the pillows beneath him. He tries not to think about the fact that they smell like Jonas’ cologne - sharp and masculine and rough. He tries not to think about the fact that he even notices that it’s there in the first place. He tries to ignore the fact that he loves this smell, that it warms his heart and makes his stomach flip.

“Sorry” He mumbles, his apology barely audible.

“Jesus,” Jonas groans “My head is fucking killing me.”

Isak just nods into the soft plush pillow beneath him - agreeing.

“Maybe we should ease up on the Coke a bit,” Jonas sighs, rubbing his temples, willing the steady and harsh throbbing there to _just_... _go_... _away_ …. “I think it’s really fucking with my body. My muscles are fucking aching, man. I feel like I’m eighty years old.”

“Yeah, maybe” Isak agrees, squeezing his eyes tighter, which only makes the throbbing at the back of his neck intensify. His mouth tastes like stale beer and his dry lips stick together as he speaks, trying to pry them apart, “But right now can you, like, stop talking?”

“Wait,” Jonas doesn’t stop talking. “You agree? You wanna ease back?” his voice is surprised but hopeful. Isak lets out a final groan, realizing he isn’t going to be able to get back to bed. He rolls over onto his back, noticing for the first time that he’s shirtless too. He squints against the light and turns to his friend.

Jonas’ expression is open and honest - one of genuine surprise. His hair is more of a mess than usual and deep blue circles rest beneath his eyes.

“You look like shit, bro,” Isak chuckles lightly, immediately regretting the action when he feels a pain shoot through his brain. “Shiiiiiit” his eyes fall closed again.

“You really want to stop?”

Isak shrugs “I mean...sure,” he replies indifferently “I have been going pretty hard lately. I haven’t done any homework in three weeks and I’ve just felt like shit...so….yeah sure.”

Jonas doesn’t reply right away. Isak doesn’t see that his friend’s lips turn up into a subtle but joyful smile. Isak doesn’t notice the wave of relief that crashes over the boy next to him. When the silence stretches a beat too long though, Isak looks over, seeing the expression resting peacefully on Jonas’ face.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Jonas chuckles, his mood suddenly light despite the harshness in his head. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting you to say yes.”

Isak’s brows furrow as it begins to click in his mind. Jonas seeming so relieved about something so small…“Wait, wait, wait,” Isak shakes his head. His body aches in protest but he leans up anyway, leaning all his weight on his elbows. He looks down at the brunette beside him and frowns deeply, “What...did you….” He lets out an awkward chuckle, one of disbelief “Did you think I was...I wasn’t going to be able to stop? Like I’m an _addict_ or something?”

Jonas hesitates just a beat too long before replying with a little too much denial, “No, no, man nothing like that just….”

“Just?” Isak widens his eyes in impatience.

“I mean, come on Isak.” Jonas sighs, his eyes pleading for understanding. “You just said you’ve been going pretty hard.”

“So?”

“So, you haven’t just been going pretty hard,” He decides to lay it all out on the table. “You’ve been going _too_ hard. We used to just do this shit a few times a month but then it was suddenly every weekend and then….you were bringing Coke to school, Isak. You were doing fucking Coke and Molly at school in the bathroom just on Wednesday…”

Isak lets out a snort, completely side-stepping this conversation, ignoring the genuine concern in his friend’s voice.

“Jeez Jonas - when did you turn into-”

“-such a little bitch.” Jonas finishes for him. Isak glances away. “Stop fucking deflecting. You know I’m right and whenever I try to bring it up you do that shit where you change the subject. Just....you wouldn’t have just said you wanted to slow down if you didn’t need to, right? So let's just stick to that. Take a break from it all. The drugs, the partying. I’ve been slacking with school work too, we can help each other catch up and shit.”

Isak doesn’t want to think about Jonas’ words. _Really_ think about them. He’s not blind. He’s not dumb. He knows what he’s been doing. He’s been doing what he’s always been good at. He’s been escaping, been running, been pretending. But he knows that his best friend’s words are true. He has been going too hard. He’s been escaping too much. He knows by the way his mouth waters when he thinks about the little baggy of white powder that seems to always be sitting in his front pocket. He knows by the way his hands twitch and his eyes watch the clock when he’s at school. He knows by the way his nose itches and his eyes can’t focus on anything for more than a few moments. He needs to slow down.

So he doesn’t try to fight it, “Yeah,” He agrees “Alright.”

.

 

.

 

.

 

The second time Isak sees the boy with the annoyingly charming smile and crystal clear blue eyes it’s at school again. He’s sitting across the way from him in the cafeteria. He’s wearing the same annoying jean jacket, glasses perched on top of his perfectly quaffed hair. He’s sat back casually, legs thrown up on a chair beside him. He’s looking up at a girl that Isak doesn’t know well and he’s laughing at something she said. His eyes squint with his laughter, lines forming around the edges of the soft baby blues.

And Isak feels it again - the envy - except this time he doesn’t know if it’s because the boy seems so at ease with himself or because Isak isn’t there, talking to him, making him laugh like that…

“Isak?”

“Huh?” Isak turns back to his friends suddenly. His ears burn with a blush as he tries to shake away his thoughts, pretend that they weren’t even there in the first place. Sometimes Isak gets so paranoid that he worries that everyone around him can hear his thoughts. His stupid, _stupid_ thoughts.

And he gets angry. Angry that they aren’t having these thoughts too. That they aren’t constantly pretending, constantly worrying.

“Do you go down on girls?”

Isak lets out a genuinely amused chuckle. He clearly missed something.

“What?”

Jonas rolls his eyes, “You never fucking listen, man.”

“Jonas says he goes down on girls all the time,” Magnus explains simply, shrugging and taking a bite of his bologna sandwich, food flying from his mouth unattractively as he continues, “I just didn’t know it was a thing...I don’t do that shit.”

“That’s because you don’t have sex period, Magnus.” Isak says back, pointedly avoiding the actual question.

 _He’s fucking angry_. The heat of the anger flowing through his body, scraping against his bones.  

Mahdi snickers behind his closed fist as Jonas ‘oooohs’ and ‘ahhhhs’.

Isak understands that this is part of the pretending. The sex talk, the pressure, the jokes,. This is what guys do. This is what _he_ does. But it doesn’t have to mean he likes it.

Sure, he fucks girls. He fucks a lot of girls actually.

He just doesn’t like talking about it. He doesn’t like thinking about it. He doesn’t like thinking about how he has to get wasted before he even approaches a girl, he doesn’t like thinking about how wrong it feels to have their soft rosy lips pressed against his neck or how uncomfortable he is every time he touches their breasts or slips a hand inside their panties.

So, he _doesn’t_ think about it. He doesn’t let himself think about it. He just laughs and jokes and talks about eating girls out with his friends

He watches Magnus’ cheeks fill with a deep blush.

He doesn’t pat Magnus on the back and tell him it’s alright that he’s inexperienced, that there isn’t any rush. He doesn’t apologize for making him uncomfortable. He doesn’t tell him that he wishes he could understand sexuality better himself as well and understand why he is the way he is.

Instead, he pretends.

 _He’s fucking angry_.

He pinches Magnus’ warm cheek between his fingers and smirks. His words don’t feel right as they leave his mouth, they taste bitter and wrong, but he _pretends_.

“Awe, is someone embarrassed?” He fake chuckles. “It’s okay, Magnus. The day will come soon. I mean...if you think about it realistically age thirty isn’t that far away.”

Magnus smacks Isak’s hand away roughly, before flicking the front of the snapback resting on his head, “Fuck off, Isak.” He mumbles, his eyes flitting down to the table. Isak doesn’t let himself feel bad. Isak just chuckles, pulling his hat back down and leaning back in his seat.

Jonas and Mahdi chuckle along with him.

Isak is good at pretending to be normal. Even when his chest hurts as the words leave his mouth and a wave of nausea hits him fast. He’s a horrible friend, a bad person, but he’s _normal_. He knows it’s fucked up - really, really fucked up but Magnus pouting and being hurt for a little bit is a lot better than the alternative. Better than everyone knowing the truth.

“You never answered though,” Mahdi says randomly.

“Hmmm?” Isak glances away, pretending to have forgotten the original question, seeming uninterested, but in reality, his skin is crawling.

“Do you go down on girls too?”

Isak clenches his jaw, causing it to ache. His fists fall beneath the table and he clenches them tightly, nailing digging into the skin there and….he’s _so fucking angry_.

His mind won't stop. His mind never stops.

And then it happens.

Isak’s eyes wander back to where the new boy sits, except this time the boy isn’t talking to anyone, he isn’t distracted or laughing or walking in the opposite direction. He’s there and he’s staring right back at Isak. His eyes are soft and unmoving and he doesn’t look away like Isak expects him to. He just….stares back.

And Isak doesn’t look away either. It’s almost like he _can’t_ look away. His chest is warm and his fists begin to unclench without him even realizing...his body begins to relax.

He can’t quite read the expression on the other boy’s face. There really isn’t much of an expression to read. He doesn’t seem happy or sad or uncomfortable or _anything_. He just seems…. _he just seems_.

His features are soft and gentle and _beautiful_.

“Yeah,” Isak says plainly, still not looking away, even as someone taps on the blue eyed boy’s shoulder and pulls his attention elsewhere, “Yeah, I go down on girls.”

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Isak hasn’t been home in exactly eight days.

He’s been couch hopping. A few nights at Jonas’, a few nights at Mahdi’s, sometimes he’ll just crash on the floor after a party dies down. Most of the time the host of the party is long crashed out or way too wasted to notice Isak’s small sleeping form until the morning.

Jonas always lets him know he could stay there the whole time instead of hopping but Isak also knows that’s not exactly true.

Jonas’ mom is sweet and kind and very understanding. She’s the kind of mom who wakes you up with pancakes and eggs on Sunday morning and likes to kiss your cheek before you go to bed no matter what age you are. But she’s also the kind of mom that worries and asks too many questions. She wants to get involved and push her nose into places it doesn’t belong. So, Isak knows he can’t stay there for too long without her asking one question too many.

_Isn’t your mom going to be worried if you don’t at least check in with her, Isak?_

_Does your dad know where you are, Isak?_

_Oh dear, where on earth did those bruises come from?_

Despite her constant hovering and questioning though, Isak can’t help but have a soft spot for Julie. She was everything Isak thought a mom should be. Her hugs were soft and comforting and she somehow always knew when you needed one without having to ask. She always smells like lilacs and her long, smooth curls that fall to her shoulders always tickle Isak’s nose when she squeezes him hello. He always felt at peace when he was in her home, and a sadness always followed him when he left.

Now he stands in front of his own house, which is anything but a home.

He avoids going in as long as possible without it getting pathetic. He shuffles from foot to foot, scrolls through his Facebook timeline on his phone, debates messaging his dealer when he feels his nose begin to twitch but stops when he remembers his promise to Jonas. Then he takes a deep breath to steady his nerves, he closes his eyes for a moment - wishing he was anywhere else but here, and then enters.

.

The house is quiet. The only sound being the ticking of the clock on the wall. It rings loudly in Isak’s ears, making him present in this moment, making him understand that it’s real no matter how far or fast he tries to run. The air in the living room is stale and old smelling like the place hasn’t had a decent dusting in years. Which it hasn’t.

Isak already feels himself shrinking into himself. He hates it here. He hates everything about this place. How small and insignificant he feels here. How weak and powerless he truly is within these walls. How this place makes him _remember_. How it makes him regret. How he can't really pretend here.

He can already feel the weight, the weight he’s been spending eight days shedding, begin to pile up on his chest again. It’s harder for him to breath under this roof. It’s hard to pretend. Harder to just _be_.

He walks into the kitchen, dropping his backpack on the floor carelessly, and opening the fridge. The only thing in it is beer bottles, eggs, and leftover pizza that was there before Isak left eight days ago. The shelves are covered with a yellow goop and the smell makes Isak wrinkle his nose.

“Pappa hasn’t gone shopping yet,”

Isak jumps, startled by the small soft voice from behind him. His head hits the door to the fridge harshly - he straightens and turns to find his younger sister sat at the table by herself, school books spread around the old rusted thing that wobbles when you tap it.

She’s smiling lightly, amused by her brother’s misfortune.

Isak can’t help but smile lightly back, shutting the door behind him and rubbing the now sore spot at the back of his head.

“I didn’t see you there” He tells her before plopping down in the chair across from her.

“I know,” Lea tells him. Her smiles grows. Lea shares the same eyes as her older brother - green with light flecks of gold and orange - but today Lea’s eyes look dull and their lack of usual brightness is something Isak notices right away. Lea looks tired. Way more tired than any fourteen year old should look. She looks _exhausted_. Not just physically but emotionally. There are light rings of blue running beneath her eyes, which are also slightly red rimmed. Her cheeks look pale instead of brightened with their usual pink blush. Her delicate blonde curls look unwashed and unbrushed.

“What’s wrong?” Isak asks, sitting up a little straighter in his chair, reaching over to shove Lea’s books out of the way and take her small hands in his.

Lea is the only reason Isak comes back here. If there was no Lea in this house, there would be no Isak. He’d be long gone by now. It didn’t matter where he would go or where he would stay but it would be _anywhere_ but here. But Lea does exist here. So, so does Isak. Their father has never gotten physical or violent with Lea. That’s something he saves just for Isak himself, so he trusts that fact enough to leave her alone here. But that doesn’t mean he trusts it enough for her to be okay here, not _really_ _okay_.

A crazy mom and a drunk dad isn’t exactly a picnic for anyone.

So, yeah, Isak needs to get away sometimes, he’s only human, but he always comes back. He comes back for her.

Lea shrugs and looks away.

“No,” Isak says sharply, causing the younger sibling to look up at him, eyes wide, “Tell me. Now.”

His words are sharp but the younger girl understands why. Lea is a smart girl - sharp and perceptive and wise beyond her years. She sees how her brother suffers here, far worse than she does. She watches him with cautious eyes as his anxiety grows each and every day. She wishes that _she_ could protect _him_ , the way he protects her, taking some of that weight of off his shoulders and carrying it on her own. She really wouldn’t mind at all.

Isak’s thumb rubs small circles on the back of her hand and she smiles. It’s his way of saying sorry for his harsh tone, even though he would never say the words out loud to her. She just understands him. She always has. Just like he has always understood her, like how he knows when she’s keeping something from him.

So she doesn’t bother trying to lie the second time around, “Mom has just been really bad this week.” She says weakly.

She bites her lip when she starts to see the guilty look forming on Isak’s face just like she knew it would.

“It’s not your fault, Isak,” She says quietly, before he can say anything to interrupt her “You’re a seventeen year old boy. It’s not your job to stay home and take care of your little sister. You need space. Plus, it wasn’t anything too bad….she was just….loud. Kept me up at night.”

“You shouldn’t have to go through this….” Her brother replies quietly, trying to pull his hand away from her’s - his guilt crawling through his body, settling in his throat in a lump.

Lea doesn’t let him pull away though - she shoots out and makes his hand still, continuing to clutch it in her own.

“And you do?” She scoffs, rolling her eyes at the ridiculous boy in front of her. “Let’s just agree neither one of this deserves our shitty parents and skip the whole ‘it’s all my fault, i’m so guilty act’, okay? Not everything in the world revolves around you, Isak.” She smiles at her own words.

Isak smiles back.

He doesn't know how he got so lucky to get a sister like his.

He knows that if Lea really had it her way this conversation would be longer. She would have told him all the reasons he doesn’t need to feel guilty, all of them being backed up with some kind of ridiculously logical and correct reason. She would tell him that they should be sticking together and fighting for something better. She would hug him and tell him she loves him and that it’s going to be okay, That they both just need to focus on school and the future and getting out of this hell hole.

But she doesn’t because she just knows him. She knows he’s not ready for that. She realizes that her brother is worn and cracked at the edges. She’s always been stronger than him, Isak knows. It’s really ironic that he’s the one that has such a strong urge to protect her, when usually it ends up being the other way around.

“Wanna go get some food?” He asks, moving to tuck a delicate curl behind his sister's ear. “I have cash.”

Lea nods, her smile growing.

.

.

.

Luckily, Isak’s mom is in what Lea and him call “crash mode.”

A state where she just sleeps and cries and mumbles bible verses into her pillow. A state where their father has to force feed her bread and milk and bathe her while she cries.

He hears his father get home around one in the morning. He listens carefully as he wobbles and stumbles and practically crashes his way through the house.

Isak knows his father gets off work around 21 so he’s probably been holed away in a bar for hours, crying and drinking his problems away until the morning comes and he’s forced to face them again.

Isak’s father, Tom, has never really been good at confrontation or emotion or life. He’s good at running too. Isak always figured that’s where he got it from.

Tom doesn’t like to face reality anymore than his son does. He likes to pretend that everything is okay. That his wife isn’t batshit crazy, that he isn’t strong enough to confront the situation or get her help, and that his kids don’t resent him for everything that is falling apart.

So, he drinks and he yells until his throat is raw and his mind is blank. He drinks until he doesn’t remember his shitty life. He doesn’t remember that he has son or what that son’s name is or that he knows about the awful, awful things that happened to him once upon a time. And that he never did anything to help. As long as Tom is fine pretending, so is Isak.

It’s what the Valtersens do. They pretend.

Isak feels his fingers begin to fidget and his nose begin to itch as he stares blankly up at the plain white ceiling. He picks up his phone and without permission from himself, he scrolls to the one name he know can make this itch stop.

 **Chris**.

He hesitates, sighs, and curses himself for having a conscious before texting Jonas.

 **Isak** : _Sup_

It’s a full twenty minutes before his friend messages back, and Isak stares at Chris’ number the whole time.

 **Jonas** : _It’s_ _one thirty in the morning and you woke me up that’s what's up. Asshole._

Isak chuckles.

 **Jonas** : _everything ok?_

The blonde boy lets out a tired sigh. He knows that Jonas genuinely cares, genuinely wants to know and that if he really wanted to he could tell him everything. He could tell him about the anxiety that is pressing against his chest so tightly that he feels like he can’t move. He can tell him that he’s scared about the morning and how his dad is going to react to him being back, about how he’s scared it’s going to be physical and violent and how weak he feels because he can’t do anything about it. He’s scared his mom will have energy again tomorrow and will be out of bed - throwing things and screaming. He’s scared of the _past_. He's scared of what has happened and what will happen because of it.

But he doesn’t. He can’t.

 **Isak** : _Nothing, bro. Sry I woke u up. See you at school tomorrow_.

 **Jonas** : _k night_

Isak is really, _really_ good at pretending.

.

 

.

 

.

 

“Well, look who it is,” It’s the first thing his dad says when he enters the kitchen in the morning. Lea and Tom are sitting at the table, a plate of eggs in front of them both. Lea is already dressed for school. She doesn’t look up at her brother as he enters the room, just keeps her eyes focused on the plate in front of her, telling Isak that she didn’t have a good nights sleep either.

Isak just grunts in reply, making his way over to the counter and grabbing a mug to pour himself a cup of coffee.

“Really, Isak?” His father asks, his voice dripping with disdain “You disappear for over a week and that’s all you have? A grunt?”

Isak sighs, turning. He holds the mug up to his nose, inhaling the steam that rises from the hot liquid. It soothes him a little, making his shoulders loosen just slightly.

“I didn’t disappear” Isak says quietly, focusing on the dirty tiled floor beneath his feet. “I texted you that I was staying at Jo-”

“You texted me exactly eight days ago that you were staying at Jonas’,” His father sighs “I thought that meant for one night and now here we are eight days later with no more texts sent.”

Isak doesn’t reply. He just sips his coffee tentatively.

“Isak, look at me.” Isak hates how his heart immediately picks up, beating just a little faster than usual because of his father’s sharp tongue. It makes him feel weak and pitiful. 

When he meets his dad’s eyes he feels sick. It’s that _look_. That look that says, _you_ , _I hate you. I hate you for making me this way._

Isak swallows thickly, trying to make the lump in his throat disappear, the lump that has been there since the moment he walked back through the door.

Tom stares at his son for a moment - a look of distance and disgust. His eyes roam over Isak’s features as if he’s inspecting him. Tom is worn out too. He looks at least ten years older than his true age, his body giving out under the extreme abuse he puts it through.

“Next time,” He says quietly, but in a tone that lets Isak know he isn’t in the mood for games, a tone that makes Isak's spine straighten, “fucking call.”

Isak just nods.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

The third time Isak runs into the boy with the pretty blue eyes, sparkling smile and wind-blown hair - it’s literal.

He literally runs directly into him.

He arrived at school late. After the talk (if it could be considered that) with his father he had to calm down, sit in his room for twenty minutes and convince himself not to call Chris, take a shower, and have three more cups of coffee.

He walked through the school doors in a hurry to get to his morning Norwegian class, his backpack dragging behind him, papers falling out on the way and his jacket slipping from his shoulders in his haste.

Then he turned one particularly sharp corner and…

“Shit,” He groans out, rubbing the sore spot on his chest as he stumbles back a few steps.

He looks up in a glare, ready to curse out whoever managed to get in his way, but he stops short.

It’s him.

The boy from across the school yard, across the cafeteria. Signature sunglasses placed on his head and that same ridiculously annoying jean jacket fit snuggly around his body.

He's taller than Isak by quite a bit, which he can’t say is true for many people, so he has to crane his neck just slightly from his stumbled position. He watches as the crinkles begin to form at the corner of the boy’s eyes and his eyebrows begin to rise. That’s when he notices that the other boy is smiling. No, not smiling, he's laughing.

“Sorry,” He chuckles lightly, “I didn’t see you coming.” His voice is deep but smooth and Isak hates the way it makes his breathing hitch just a little bit.

There are a few more beats of silence before Isak notices the taller boy begin to look a little too amused. That’s when he realizes he still hasn’t replied.

“Halla” He says back dumbly.

The other boy chuckles some more, placing his hands into the pockets of his jacket, and shaking his head. “Halla” He replies simply.

Isak tries to ignore the way he notices how the sun is catching the boy’s face just right as it streams through the hallway window, showing the scattered freckles across his chin and the tiny heart shaped birthmark on his temple. His jaw is a sharp and strong but his face still seems soft and calm. He ignores that he notices how soft his hair looks and how smooth his pale skin is and how long and light his eyelashes are.

Isak clears his throat, “I’m, uh….yeah sorry, man.” He stumbles over his words as he searches for a reply. “I was….in a rush.”

The boy chuckles _again_ , and Isak is surprisingly not annoyed by it. In fact it’s quite the opposite. He finds himself wanting to say more things that will make him laugh like that.

“I can see that.” Isak can feel his ears turn hot as he shrugs his jacket further up his arms and readjusts his backpack. He must look ridiculous. He didn’t even bother to glance in a mirror before he headed out the door this morning. He just tossed on whatever was laying around, pulled a snapback over his unkempt hair, and practically ran all the way here - missing every bus he could have possibly caught.

Blue eyes roam his body, taking in his appearance from head to toe, and he feels his ears grow hotter, feeling completely exposed under the gaze. Isak doesn’t know why he’s reacting this way. He’s not a nervous person. He actually doesn’t give a fuck what anyone thinks of him. He’s cool, calm, collected, and slightly grumpy at all times. But for some reason this boy’s stare has Isak caring. He cares what he’s seeing and if he likes it. So he stands, not pretending at all, and doesn’t say a word - _not_ _able_ to say a word.

It’s weird how this boy’s stare can make him feel so uneasy yet make his heart beat a little faster, his breath come a little quicker, all because as much as he wishes that the other boy would _just stop looking at him_ , he wants him to _keep_ _looking_ at him more.

He tries to think of something to say….anything. But nothing comes to mind. He feels his tongue begin to stick to the top of his dry mouth.

“I’m Even,” the boy tells him “by the way. I’ve seen you around a few times so I figured I’d introduce myself.”

 _Even_.

Isak nods. Pauses. Only noticing it’s too long again when Even raises his eyebrows once more.

“Isak,”

Even nods this time, slipping the sunglasses from his head to his eyes, he smiles.

Isak’s heart skips a beat in a really, _really_ _stupid_ way.

_What the fuck._

“See you around, Isak.”

Isak doesn't even think about the fact that he loves the sound of his name on the other boy's lips. He swears he doesn't.

His feet are unable to move even as the other boy walks away, letting the school doors slam loudly shut behind him.

Isak is another twenty minutes late to class.


	2. Little Boy Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who has left comments & kudos and has taken the time to read. It means so much<3\. Please remember to KEEP THE COMMENTS COMING and let me know if you'd like me to continue writing this. 
> 
> Please ignore silly spelling and grammar mistakes. I suck at editing. 
> 
> Also, QUICK WARNING:  
> I already put internalized homophobia and homophobic language in the tags but I thought I should expand on this more because some stuff comes up in this chapter dealing with it. Isak isn’t just a little bit in the closet in my fic. He is in deep deep DEEP denial. It’s not just internalized homophobia but it is active homophobia. Isak is essentially homophobic in general when this story starts and it’s something he is going to have to understand, learn, and deal with throughout the entire fic. 
> 
> There are reasons for his homophobic thoughts and actions and they WILL be uncovered throughout the story! 
> 
> But I’m just warning everyone now that some of the language and slurs (said both out loud and in Isak’s own head) are very harsh and very homophobic. So just beware! 
> 
> Basically Isak has a lot of issues and a lot of learning and growing to do! 
> 
> Anyway, hope you all continue to enjoy :)

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

 

 _"If_ _you don't let it out, you're going to let it eat you alive."_

_......_

**Chris** : _Hey pretty boy. Haven’t heard from you in awhile. Gettin worried. Wanna swing by? Party at mine @ 23._

The yelling outside Isak’s door is loud and booming and has been going on for hours now.

When Isak got home from school today, he took one look at Lea’s face as she sat helplessly on the couch, and his chest tightened.

His mom was _up_ again.

As soon as Isak shut the door he knew. The air in the house had shifted once again, this time instead of being stale and stuffy it was full of life - _too_ _much_ life.

It was wild and chaotic feeling. The kind of wild that took every ounce of energy from your body. The kind of chaotic that made your muscles ache and your bones shake. It was wrong.

“Lea what-” He didn’t get to finish.

His mother rounded the corner and let out a scream. His mother had a lot of screams. Some were frightened screams, some were sad wails, and some, like this one, were happy and delighted.

“Oh!” She was loud, way too loud. “Isak! My baby boy is home!”

At least she recognized him this time.

She shuffled her way to him, her old ratty slippers scraping against the creaky wood floors beneath them. She was wearing her long worn out ugly pink robe, the one covered in food stains and ripped in one too many places. It always smelled musty and made Isak wrinkle his nose and hold his breath. Anita refused to throw it away though. It meant something to her. Once Isak’s father had taken the robe while his wife slept and threw it in a dumpster. They were woken up that night to a screaming, crying, tantrum throwing Anita, she threw things and scratched herself and bit her husband and wouldn’t stop until her husband got it back. He’s never tried to get rid of it since.

Isak watched her as she moved closer and closer, his stomach sinking a little more with each shuffle she took towards him.

His mom used to be beautiful and vibrant. Warm and lovely.

He remembers when he was young, he would just stare at her for hours in the mornings while she did her makeup and brushed her hair. He would stand by the doorway while she sat at her vanity, singing quietly and laughing to herself.

 _That’s my Mamma_ , he used to think proudly.

She was always better than the other kid’s moms. He didn’t care that they gave her strange looks that he didn’t understand when she came to school meetings and talked too loudly while Pappa tried to shush her. She laughed louder than them, she was more fun. She told more stories and let Isak stay up way past his bedtime. She used to let her son paint on the walls even when Pappa yelled. She would paint on the walls too. She would make up stories and play hide and seek and Isak always thought it was funny when his mom got lost or distracted and forgot to look for him. She used to sneak into his room when Pappa was sleeping and wake him up with kisses and chocolate chip cookies and they would stay up until the sun rose and Isak had to leave for school. He didn’t care how tired he was and that he had to nap on the bus, because he loved his Mamma.

Her imagination ran more wild than anyone he knew. Her mind was such a beautiful place to Isak when he was young. He used to wish he could just take a peek inside and understand why it worked the way that it did. Her smile was always wide and happy. Her gray-blue eyes always twinkled when she spoke to her son and she always told him she loved him.

Her blonde curls were long and silky and made Isak feel like he was home.

But now....that Mamma is gone.

The woman in front of him is a stranger. Her eyes are dull and hollow, looking but not seeing what is in front of her. Her smile is small and weak. Her mind isn’t there. It’s lost - tucked away somewhere dark and deep and safe. Somewhere Isak can’t find it.

And he misses it so, so much. He misses that Mamma. The Mamma who was still crazy, but loved him and protected him.

This Mamma barely recognizes him anymore. This Mamma sees things that aren’t there and yells things that don’t make sense. This isn’t his Mamma.

She wraps her long arms around Isak’s still frozen, still stiff frame. These arms used to be so comforting and warm - now they just make the boy feel small and so afraid. 

“Hi Mamma,” Isak says quietly, wrapping his arms loosely around his mother in turn.

He looks at his sister over his mother’s shoulder and tries to smile to let her know it’s okay. But Lea’s too clever to believe that. It doesn’t stop Isak from trying anyway.

Lea nods at him in understanding - _I don’t believe you_.

Anita smells dirty. Her hair is grease slicked and so knotted that it sticks to her scalp. Isak can see the dirt that clings to it and can feel it on his mother’s clammy skin as her hands touch the back of his neck.

“Where have you been my darling boy?” She asks, pulling away so she can cradle her son’s face between her dry callused hands. A dark, thick layer of dirt lays beneath her nails and Isak wants to cry. “I’ve missed you.”

Isak’s heart hurts at her words - so soft and kind and real seeming. He wants to believe her. He wants so badly for her words to be true and real. But nothing his mother does is real anymore.

Today she is kind and care free and soft. Her words will be sweet and make Isak want to smile again. She’ll say all the right things, all the things she used to when he was just a small boy. She’ll kiss his cheek and stroke his hair and make him feel okay.

And then tomorrow...it’ll all be gone.

She’ll yell and make Isak afraid. She’ll think he’s a stranger and a monster. She’ll scream and cry and scratch and destroy everything she built yesterday. Isak’s fallen for it one too many times. He doesn’t let himself feel it anymore.

He feels sick to his stomach as he gazes into her empty gray eyes. Her skin looks old and tinted yellow. Her lips are slightly blue and very chapped. Isak feels the pressure of the water begin to build behind his eyes. But he doesn’t let any tears fall.

“I know, Mamma.” Is all he says in return.

“Sit!” His mom gestures wildly to where his sister is sat on the couch, pulling her body away from his suddenly, almost violently, too wildly. Isak stumbles forward. “Sit with your sister and relax! You both look so tired. There’s no need for that!” She grabs onto his hand, pulling him too roughly farther into the den, and onto the couch “Mamma is going to make it all better! I’m cooking your favorite meal!”

Isak’s eyes widen, turning towards his sister worriedly. Anita isn’t supposed to use the stove. It’s one of the hard rules. They’ve had too many scares with her forgetting she was cooking or leaving it on while she left the house, and Lea was still in her crib.

“Don’t worry,” Lea tells him right away, placing a small hand on his knee, trying to calm his shaken nerves. Mamma was right about one thing, Lea looks so very tired “She’s not cooking. She’s got all the food laid out on her bed. She thinks her dresser is the stove. Pappa is going to be angry when he comes home and sees that she’s opened and wasted all the new food he bought. I would have stopped her but everything was already opened when I got home from school. She was cracking eggs onto the floor.”

Isak just nods and moves closer to his sister, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulders.

They spent hours on the couch, listening to their mother move around the house and talk nonsense, sometimes calling them by their real names and sometimes not. They stayed out there and made sure she didn’t get into anything sharp or dangerous. They stayed out there until the sun began to set and Lea’s eyes began to droop before she fell asleep on her brother’s shoulder.

When their father arrived home from work, neither of the siblings said a word, they just gathered their school books and made their way to Isak’s room where they usually stay when Mamma is up again. Lea doesn’t like to sleep alone when Mamma gets too crazy and even though Isak would never admit it out loud….neither does he.

So, now Isak is laid out on his bed, staring at the same text he’s been staring at for thirty minutes. Lea is on his floor, school books laid out in front of her, trying to quickly do the homework she didn’t get to do when she got home.

Isak knows he should just ignore the text, delete it, do some homework and not think about it for the rest of the night. He promised Jonas. He promised himself.

Chris’ parties aren’t like other parties. They’re louder, more dangerous, more fun. They’re usually on school nights and Isak is usually the only one from his group of friend’s who is invited. Chris’ parties have a reputation at Nissen. They’re drug parties, sex parties, not the kind of parties four best friends go to just to hang out and get a little drunk on the weekend. They’re mind-numbing, mood altering, get as fucked-up as you can parties. Secret parties that Jonas, and Magnus, and Mahdi know nothing about except for the rumors that they’ve heard at school and what Isak chooses to tell them - which isn’t much.

The kind of parties that make Isak forget everything.

He wants to ignore the text. He really, _really_ does. He wants to ignore it for Jonas, and Lea, and himself. Jonas would be upset just knowing that Isak talks to Chris still, whether he knows that’s where Isak gets his drugs or not. Jonas has always hated Chris and hated that Isak didn’t.

He hears the screams from outside his door - both his mother and his father’s voices rising with each passing minute, becoming more frantic and hysterical. He watches as Lea clenches her eyes shut and tries to block out the impossible noise. He feels the burning in his stomach and the tightness in his chest. He feels the speed and harshness of his own breathing. His feels the sweat drip from his forehead. He feels the anxiety begin to spread through his body, wrapping around his ribs and clinging to his lungs.

And he feels his fingers move,

 **Isak** : _Sounds good. See you there._

 **Chris** : _Looking forward to it ;)_

...

He waits until Lea falls asleep, snoring lightly beside him, wrapped up in his blankets. She’s always been a blanket hog. Then he grabs a beanie and his jacket and phone and sneaks quietly into the livingroom.

His mom is nowhere to be seen and his dad in on the couch snoring obnoxiously - beer cans scattered across the floor and one can still clutched in his hand. Isak opens the door, walking out into the cold dark night, not looking back.

.

 

.

 

.

The house is already packed when Isak arrives an hour late. The music's too loud and the people are too drunk. The bodies are packed into the small hot rooms and Isak automatically feels his body loosen up.

No, these parties aren’t the best. He feels dirty and trashy when he’s here most of the time. It’s nothing he’s proud of. But he also doesn’t feel smothered or anxious or judged. He can breath a little easier and pretend a little better and forget everything that is wrong with his life. Nobody here watches him, tries to figure out what’s wrong, they’re all lost in their own worlds without a care.

He spots Chris right away, sitting at the far end of the room on the old ratty couch packed with people, a small brunette girl perched on his lap, playing with his hair.

He makes his way through the hazy smoke filled room, bumping into several people on his way. No one seems to notice his body colliding with theirs - he’s practically invisible.

When Isak reaches him, Chris smiles widely. He’s already incredibly high. Isak can tell by the the glaze over his pretty brown eyes and the size of his pupils.

“Isak!” He says excitedly “You made it! I was starting to wonder if you ditched me again.”

Isak has been ignoring Chris’ calls and texts since he made that promise to Jonas a few days ago. He pushes away the guilt he feels try to creep it’s way into his mind.

“Nah,” Isak shrugs “Just busy.”

Isak’s eyes suddenly move to the coffee table in from of the other boy. It’s all set up - little white lines laid out perfectly - just begging for his attention.

He feels the back of his throat itch.

Chris laughs, making Isak’s eyes move back to his, they shine with amusement.

“I know what you need.” He says softly, making Isak’s body shudder in a way that he both hates and loves.

Chris shoves the boy sitting next to him roughly, “Fucking move!” He grunts. The boy doesn’t put up a fight, probably way too high to care.

Chris pats the seat beside him and smiles again - warm and welcoming. Isak’s body is completely relaxed now despite the mess around him. The air in the room smells like sweat and sex and smoke but Isak can finally breath. He finds comfort in the controlled madness around him. His muscles aren’t so tight and his back isn’t so rigged. He can’t even remember why he was anxious in the first place.

His eyes move back to the white powder, calling his name. He rubs his nose, his mouth waters.

“Come sit.”

So Isak does.

And when the brunette beside him throws an arm around his shoulder - strong and firm, hands him a small clear straw, pushes one of his blonde curls lightly behind his ear, and places his warm soft lips to his skin, whispering gently, “Sniff, party boy. It’ll make everything better.”

He doesn’t even try to fight it.

.

.

.

Isak blinks against the harsh morning light, groaning and trying to hide his face in the softness beside him. Until he realizes what he’s trying to bury his face into is a little too soft and smells like...coconut.

He pulls away slightly staring down at soft brunette waves of hair flowing onto the pillows beneath them. The girl beside him is small and beautiful.

He remembers her from last night. He doesn’t know her name, he’s not even sure she mentioned it. She was peppy and loud and way too high. She sat on Isak’s lap most of the night and snorted a line every time he did. He remembers the burn of the tequila on the back of his tongue and the vibration of the music through his body. He remembers smiling at the girl and thinking that she had pretty lips - even if he didn’t want to kiss them. But he did kiss them eventually. And he let her suck his dick. He doesn’t even remember if he came, just that it took a really, really long time for him to get hard. He felt sick to his stomach the whole time. But his head was deliciously light and that’s all that mattered.

He lets out another groan, looking around the room, one eye closed as he tries to clear his head and make his eyes focus. He recognizes it as Chris’ room.

He rolls over and off the bed, trying to move as quietly and quickly as possible, not wanting to have to deal with an awkward conversation with the stranger beside him. He slips his discarded jeans on hastily, makes sure his phone is in his pocket, scoops the rest of his belongings up and exits.

Outside the door is fairly calm. Everyone is still sleeping, Isak has to step over a few unconscious bodies as he makes his way to the kitchen, hoping to make some coffee before he catches a bus to school.

Chris’ house looks much different in the morning light. It’s calm and peaceful and holds a steady kind of reassurance. It almost comforts Isak knowing that some place that can be so crazy and wild and mad - can always return to normal. When the music dies down and the people clear out, this is just a house. Quiet and calm. Empty and alone.

“Well, well, well,” Isak is greeted by Chris’ wide and happy smile as soon as he turns the corner to the kitchen. “Hey there, Party Boy.”

He leans back against the counter behind him casually, his hair is disheveled and his eyes are still hazed over with sleep. He brings a mug to his soft red lips and sips - staring directly at the boy in front of him.

Isak pretends not to notice that Chris is shirtless and his chest is smooth and strong.

He glances at the floor instead and asks, “You got any aspirin?”

Chris laughs, “You did seem to be pretty rusty last night, bet your head is kicking. How about some coffee instead?”

And then there’s a mug in his hands and delicious hot coffee in his mouth.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Chris steps close to the smaller boy, moving a blonde curl delicately away from his forehead. His fingertips feel warm and smooth against his own skin. It’s familiar and comforting and Isak hates it. He hates how much he likes the other boy’s closeness. He hates that he enjoys the smell of his body wash and wants to touch the bare skin of his chest. He hates that he’s done it before, and that he feels worse and worse, grosser and grosser each time it happens.

Isak stares into the black liquid in his cup and pretends his belly doesn’t fill with softness and his skin doesn’t prickle with goosebumps.

“You know,” Chris says softly, “I _am_ kind of jealous. You were in my room the last half of the night with that girl and not me. You’re lucky I like you, Pretty Boy. I don’t let just anyone use my bed.”

Isak tries to swallow the lump in his throat. He wants to push Chris away, and he wants to pull Chris closer.

“Stop that,” He says softly.

“Stop what?” Chris teases, running a fingertip gently around the shell of Isak’s ear. Isak doesn’t shy away from the touch and his heartbeat doubles.

“You know I’m not like that...I’m not...I’m not….”

“Down to fuck?”

“ _A fag._ ”

He looks up at Chris sharply and jerks his head away from the older boy’s touch, seeming to snap out of his own trance by his own brutal words.

Chris just rolls his eyes, completely unoffended by Isak’s words and actions.

It’s always the same song and dance.

Chris knew Isak wanted him from the first time he saw him. He was at a party some Nissen girl was throwing when Chris spotted him from across the room.

He was a small, shy, grouchy first year that looked like he wanted to be literally anywhere else. But Chris thought he was cute, he always liked the delicate ones. Boys, girls, it didn’t really matter once they were naked.

When Chris introduced himself, Isak just grunted in response, not seeming to give him the time of day. He looked bored and annoyed and like he was waiting for the other boy to just disappear. But Chris also noticed how Isak’s eyes lingered a beat longer than usual on his chest and how they flicked to his lips whenever Chris would take a sip of his beer and lick them purposely afterwards.

Chris eventually got the younger boy into a bedroom, he told him he’d never been with a boy before, only girls. Chris didn’t give a fuck.

They fucked that night and a lot of nights after that.

It starts differently every time, but it always ends the same. With Isak quickly gathering his clothes and hurrying out the door, looking disgusted and ashamed. He always made sure to let Chris know that “ _he wasn’t a fag_ ” and that “ _this was the last time”_.

Chris doesn’t know what happened to the younger boy to make him hate himself this much but he can see it. He sees the anger and hate and sadness brimming at the surface every time he's there, just waiting to spill over.

So, Chris offers him the only solution he has.

Chris shrugs, backing off, “Whatever you say, man.”

Isak’s eyes narrow as Chris speaks his next words, “Just let me know when you change your mind this time.”

Isak opens he’s mouth the respond, to snap something angry and annoyed and _I’m not a fucking faggot_ back but Chris cuts him off quickly, pulling a small baggy out of his pocket and holding it in front of the younger boy’s face.

He watches as Isak’s eyes widen, and then soften, as he takes the baggy from Chris’ fingers.

“No charge.”

“Thank you,” His voice is small and soft. “What time is it?”

“Ten.”

“Shit!”

Isak reaches for his phone and he feels his stomach drop, rolling with sickness, this time not just from the hangover.

_10 missed calls from Jonas._

_6 missed called from Lea._

_8 missed calls from Pappa._

_4 missed calls from Magnus._

_3 missed calls from Magdi._

_16 new text messages._

“Fuck.”

“What’s wrong?” Chris’ voice is light and non-caring. He doesn’t really care what’s wrong.

Isak knows that. But he answers anyway, looking up to see Chris setting up a few new lines of Coke for himself on the counter, Isak glances away quickly, “I missed some calls.”

“Ah,” Chris nods, a smile playing on his dangerous lips, “the fun patrol.”

Isak rolls his eyes. Chris likes to come up with nicknames for Jonas and basically anyone who texts Isak while he’s partying.

_Fun patrol, geek squad, worry warts._

The list goes on and on. Chris tries to brush them off, make it seem like they just want to stop Isak from having some fun, but Isak knows better. These are the people who care about him. The people who genuinely worry about him. Sure, Isak may be fucked up in every sense of the word. He’s reckless and hopeless and angry. He acts more than he feels and he doesn’t try too hard to do anything about it. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have people in his life - people he cares about and people who return that care.

Whether he deserves their love and worry, is debatable, but he has it.

He ignores Chris, instead opening his phone hastily to find the messages waiting for him.

 **Lea** : _Where are you? You were gone when I woke up._

 **Lea** : _Mamma is really bad._

 **Lea** : _Pappa is going crazy._

 **Lea** : _Please answer...I’m scared._

 **Lea** : _I’m heading to school. I’m okay. Worried about you._

Isak lets his eyes fall closed, blowing out a long breath, feeling like a complete dick.

Guilt is a feeling Isak knows well. His actions warren it a lot. He acts, then thinks, and then the guilt crawls in, every time stronger than the last. He regrets and he feels bad. But never enough to stop.

His sister was there alone when she woke up, with a crazy mother and screaming father, worried about her brother and wondering where he’d disappeared to this time. She knows he does that a lot and she never asks where he goes or what he does. She’s smart enough to know that she doesn’t _want_ to know what he does.

But she still let him know she was okay, so _he_ wouldn’t worry about her, proving to her brother once again just how much better she is than him, how much stronger. She doesn’t run, she deals.

 **Isak** : _I’m so sry, Lea. I didn’t mean to make you worry. I’m ok. Call me after school._

Isak types out the message quickly before moving on to the others.

 **Jonas** : _where r u, bro?_

 **Jonas** : _Lea called to see if u were w me_

 **Jonas** : _she called Mahdi n Magnus too_

 **Jonas** : _srly, man we’re worried_

 **Jonas** : _u with chris again?_

 **Jonas** : _did u use?_

 **Jonas** : _fuck you, Isak_

 **Jonas** : _Lea told me abt ur mom being bad_

He doesn’t reply to any of those yet, not ready to deal, not ever ready to deal.

 **Magnus** : _I told Jonas you were probably just with a girl or something but call when you can, man. Lea is worried and so are we._

 **Pappa** _: Where are you?_

 **Pappa** : _You’re so selfish, Isak._

“Everything okay?”

Isak’s attention is pulled away and back to the boy standing in front of him. Neither of them say anything for a moment, they just stare, Chris is used to Isak’s awkward pauses and long tortured silences by now.

He thinks about how easy it would be to delete all the messages on his phone, to ignore it all as long as he could, to brush it all off and step towards Chris. How simple it seems to him now to be able to snort a few more lines and ease the scratch at the back of his throat. To let Chris touch him, lay him down and open him up and whisper dirty things in his ear in a way that makes his stomach burn hot.

He thinks of Lea’s soft smile and worried eyes and his broken promises to his best friend.

“Not really,” He replies, pulling his shirt over his head before downing the rest of his coffee, “I should go.”

“Want a bump before you go?”

Isak hesitates, but only for a moment.

“No, I’m good.”

But he still slips the little baggie he was handed safely into his front pocket without a second thought.

.

 

.

 

.

Isak doesn’t bother going to his classes, but he waits outside the school for Jonas impatiently.

He hasn’t texted him back, he figured a face to face approach would work better. It usually does. He’ll say he’s sorry and Jonas will roll his eyes and Isak will pout and it’ll be forgotten. The same old routine.

 **Lea** : _Will you be back home when I’m done with school?_

Lea had texted him back earlier.

 **Isak** : _Yeah, I’ll be there._

 **Lea** : _Love you, idiot._

 **Isak** : _Love you too, brat._

Isak tosses his joint as he hears the last bell of the day ring and makes his way towards the building, his eyes searching the crowd of faceless people for his friends.

They spot him first.

“Isak! My man!” He hears Magnus call out loudly from behind him.

He turns to see them already stopped just a few feet away.

“Hey,” He says back, casually bumping fists with Mahdi and Magnus. Jonas on the other hand doesn’t offer his hand, he doesn’t say a word, he just stares blankly back at his friend. If Isak didn’t know the other boy as well as he does he wouldn’t even realize he was angry. But Jonas’ fists are squeezing the straps of his backpack too tightly, turning his knuckles white. And his jaw shifts harshly as it clenches, grinding his teeth.

Isak stares back softly, trying to let him know he’s sorry without words.

“Where were you, man?” Mahdi asks “Your sister was blowing up our phones.”

Isak shrugs, playing the part, “I was just hooking up with some girl I met. My phone died. Lea’s a drama queen.” He chuckles.

“My man!” Magnus shouts again, completely obliviously to the lies that pour so easily from his friend’s lips, he fist bumps the younger boy again before bumping shoulders lightly with Jonas, “See? I told you, dude. Isak just being Isak.”

 _Isak just being Isak_.

Isak doesn’t know if those words make him want to laugh or cry. Or some combination of both. He doesn’t even think Magnus knows just how wrong those words are. Or how Isak has no one to blame for that but himself.

Sometimes he thinks he’s buried the real Isak so deep, locked him up so tightly that he doesn’t even exist anymore. Isak can’t feel him there anymore. He barely even tries. Maybe he never existed at all.

“You look like shit, though” Mahdi chuckles, wrinkling his nose lightly, “Might want to go shower.”

Isak just laughs along.

“Want to join for some pizza?”

“Nah, I’m good” Isak mutters quietly, “I just needed to talk to Jonas really quick.”

Magnus shakes his head, “Always playing favorites” He turns to Jonas, “We’ll meet you at the place.” He tells him before he and Mahdi start walking to the bus stop.

There’s a long pause, too long, before either one of the friends say a word.

Isak looks down, kicking the gravel at his feet, too afraid to look up and meet his friend’s eyes. Too ashamed, too weak.

Jonas is the first to cut through the thick silence, “Where the fuck were you?” His voice isn’t loud or angry, it’s worse, it’s dull and flat and...disappointed.

Isak just shrugs pathetically.

Jonas lets out a harsh sarcastic chuckle, “Your sister called saying your mom freaked the fuck out last night and when she woke up you had just bailed. What? Did you run to Chris’? Get your fucking fix?”

Isak lets his eyes close, tears stinging the corner of his eyes. He knows his tears are pointless because _he_ did this. He always does it. It’s his fault. It’s always his fucking fault.

“I didn’t mean to fuck up.” He finally speaks, his words directed softly at the ground.

Jonas sighs, “You never mean to fuck up, Isak. But you somehow always manage to.”

Isak doesn’t have a response for that one. Jonas is right, he’s usually always right.

“Isak,” Jonas says softly, and when Isak finally lifts his eyes to meet soft caring brown ones, he feels his heart clench, knowing he’s the reason that hurt yet sympathetic look rests there “Are you sure you don’t need like...help?”

“Help?” He asks.

“Help...stopping? Like, are you sure you can do it by yourself? Because if you need help we can-”

“Jesus,” He cuts the brunette off with exasperation laced in his tone “I already told you I’m not a fucking addict, Jonas. I just...I didn’t do anything for a week by myself, right? It’s fine. Shit just got crazy last night and Chris happened to message me. I swear I wasn’t even thinking about drugs. That’s just how his paties are....so….” He shrugs “but I’m done…” He trails off lamely.

Jonas doesn’t reply right away. Isak doesn’t let his eyes move from his friends, wanting him to see the fake truth there. Isak pouts. Jonas rolls his eyes. Just like clockwork.

“I just worry about you.”

“I know.”

“And if you need help you just have to let me know, man. I won’t judge you.”

“I know.”

Jonas nods, satisfied for now.

“You sure you don’t want to come for pizza?”

“Yeah, I gotta get home to Lea.”

“Alright, bro. Just text me and let me know if everything is alright. Seriously….let me know if you need anything.”

Jonas’s hand drops onto Isak’s shoulder firmly, comfortingly. Isak’s skin crawls with his guilt, knowing he doesn’t deserve this boy in his life. He doesn’t deserve his love and understanding and care. Isak just nods and forces a small smile. And as Jonas walks away, Isak’s fist closes tightly around the little baggie of lies buried in his front pocket.

.

 

.

 

.

Isak gets to his house before Lea does which he’s thankful for.

His mom is in the living room, bibles spread on the floor in front of her, as she frantically scribbles notes in her notebooks that are torn at the seams and falling apart.

Her eyes are wide and wild when she glances up at Isak.

Her mouth twists into a wicked grin, that instead of warming Isak’s heart makes his stomach twist into knots.

“John!” She shouts, her eyes glazing over, as if she doesn’t really see the boy standing in front of her but rather looks right through him “John! You’ve finally made it! I was waiting for you.”

Isak sighs. He has no idea who John is. He’s a different person each time she’s like this. Sometimes he’s someone from the bible coming to rescue her and cleanse her of all her sins. Sometimes he’s a stranger who has broken into her house and is there to cause her harm - she's managed to call the cops on him quite a few times. Sometimes he’s an angel, sometimes a make believe monster with sharp teeth and six tentacles. Each one also needs a different reaction from Isak. He always has to be cautious, on his toes. Which ever make believe person he is today, it doesn’t seem like a threatening one. Anita doesn’t seem frightened by his presence, so it doesn’t seem this time he’ll have to lock Lea and himself in his bedroom until their father comes home and the screaming and crying and banging stops.

“Hey Mamma,” Isak greets her tentatively.

“Mamma?” She laughs loudly, but it isn’t _her_ laugh. This laugh is dull and hollow and sends a chill through Isak’s body. “I am no one’s Mamma, you silly boy. You know that. I’m not married. That would be sinful.”

Isak, a calm, rational and sane person, understands that these are just the silly ramblings of a mad woman. He knows she doesn’t mean it. He knows that tomorrow she’ll probably be smiling properly and calling him her ‘sweet boy’ again. But it’s harder to ignore this part and not let himself feel this part, more so than the sweetness.

It still hurts.

Whether she’s telling him she doesn’t know who he is, or that he’s going to hell for being such a wicked boy, or that she doesn’t love him anymore. It hurts all the same. Even when she hugs him tightly the next day.

When he hears the door open behind him he turns, expecting to find his sister there, looking worried and tired as always but he stops short when he sees his father - his lips hardened into a straight line and his eyes narrowed in anger.

Isak doesn’t even get a chance to ask what he’s doing home so early before his father speaks gruffly, “I got a call from the neighbor. They said she was screaming and throwing things again. You couldn’t have kept her quiet? I had to miss half a day's pay to get here.”

Isak clenches his jaw, trying to control the anger that bubbles in the pit of his stomach, “I just got here, Pappa. I found her like this.” He gestures to where his mother has continued her frantic scribbling.

“You just got here because you left in the first place, Isak,” His father steps further into the den, causing Isak to stumble and sidestep him quickly - his body’s instant reaction to his father’s presence.

Tom rolls his eyes, “Oh stop it, Isak. If you would have been here this morning than you could have stayed home with her to watch her and I wouldn’t have had to miss work.”

Isak doesn't even explain to his father how fucked up that logic is. How it shouldn't have to be his job to look after his mother. How this isn't fair to him, or Lea, or his mother.

He makes his way to Anita, until he is stood directly above her, hands on his hips and a scowl on his face.

“Alex!” She yells excitedly when her eyes move up to look at him, “So good to see you! Have you met John?”

Tom lets out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, “There is no one here named Alex or John, Anita. I’m Tom and that’s your son, Isak.”

Anita lets out another frightening cackle, “I’ve already explained to John that I do not have a son. That would be against God’s word as I do not have a husband.”

“Anita,” Tom addresses her again. There is no calmness in his voice. It’s harsh and firm and Isak watches as his mother shrinks away from the tone. “There. Is. No. John. You have to listen to me. You’re being fucking crazy. Put away the goddamn bibles and come into the kitchen I’ll make you-”

“No!” Anita yells, so suddenly that Isak jumps slightly “No! Stop saying things like that, Alex. I do-”

“Tom! My fucking name is Tom and you’re Anita, my wife. And you’re-”

Anita suddenly drops everything in her hands, letting it topple to the ground, as she brings her hands up to cover her ears, shielding herself from her husband's harsh and very wrong words.

“No, no, no, no, no,” She mumbles over and over again, shaking her head violently from side to side.

Tom wraps his hands around the frail woman’s tiny wrists, pulling, and making her shriek.

“Anita, you need to stop this foolishness now!”

Isak watches as his father tries to pry her hands away, her nails looking for something to hold onto dig into her own scalp brutally, Isak can already see the blood begin to pool there on her head.

“Stop!” His yells, causing his father to startle and look over at him in disbelief.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re hurting her” Isak tells him, gesturing to his father’s fists, wrapped way too tightly around his wife’s. There will be bruises there in the morning. “You’re just making it worse.”

Isak already knows what he did wrong. He shouldn’t have said anything. He should have walked away the moment his father entered the house. He should have closed his door, put his headphones in, and drowned out the world. But he couldn’t. Not when he knew his father was going to handle it just like this. Wrong. Not when he knew his mother would be hurt.

A small sarcastic smirk make it’s way to Tom’s face as he stands to face his son.

Behind him his wife backs away frantically, shuffling until her back hits the wall. She wraps her arms tightly around her too thin legs and buries her face there as she begins to cry.

Isak feels the sadness rush into his body. Most of the time he’s just angry. He’s angry and frustrated and resents his mother for doing this to him, to her family. For messing up everything they used to have. But then there are times like this - when he can see just how scared she is. That she really is just crazy and lost in her own terrifying little world. He wishes more than anything that he could reach into that world and grab her hand, pulling her back to where she belongs.

“What did you say to me, boy?” His father asks, moving closer still.

Isak shuffles back a few steps, tripping over his own feet, fear taking the place of the sadness. But he tries not to let it show as he swallows thickly, clenches his fists, and tries to control the shake in his voice.

“She’s sick,” He tells his father “You can’t…you can’t snap her out of it by telling her stuff like that and scaring her. She thinks it’s real. She’s crazy Pappa and you can’t keep ignoring it! You need….you need to take her to a doctor! Grow the fuck up and put down the bottle!”

And then suddenly, all of the air is rushing out of Isak’s lungs, as his body is pushed back. His back slams into the wall behind him causing him to groan loudly and sputter for air. He hears his mother yelp as a few pictures fall from the wall and shatter by their feet.

His father’s fingertips are pushing into his throat - hard. Too hard. He tries to suck in breath as much as he can, the room seeming to get smaller and smaller around him as he tries. His feet kick as they search for the ground below his feet, but it’s disappeared.

His father’s face is mere inches from his own, their noses touching. He can smell the harsh burn of alcohol on his breath and see the rage buried behind his glare - even as his mind becomes hazy.

“Listen to me you little shit,” He father’s breath his hot and disgusting against his face. His hands reach up and claw at Tom’s, trying to loosen his hold, but it is no use against his father’s strength. “Don’t you fucking tell me what I need to do for my wife, or my family. You can’t even take care of yourself, little boy.”

When Isak’s eyes begin to roll back in his head, and his chest seems to stop moving altogether, his father finally lets go. He falls to the ground heavily and gasps loudly for the air he was deprived. His hands reach for his own throat, rubbing the sore and chapped skin there. He doesn’t look anywhere but at the dirty wood beneath his feet. He feels the shards of glass dig into the fabric of his pants, pushing into the skin of his legs.

“I’m going to get my wife some clean clothes,” Tom’s voice sounds calm above him “you better not be here when I get back.”

Isak continues to sit for a few moments, taking deep breaths in and out, letting his lungs work again and clenching his eyes shut tightly.

It’s not until he finally glances up that he realizes he’s almost in the exact same position as his mother, as she sits silently and cowered across the room, his body rocking itself slightly just like her’s.

It makes his chest feel hollow and his mind feel blank.

He roughly wipes away the stupid tear that makes it’s way down his cheek.

Before leaving he sends one quick message to his sister, and lets the door close behind him.

 **Isak** : _I’m sorry._

.

 

.

 

.

Isak doesn’t know where he’s going and he doesn’t care. He’s been wandering around Oslo for hours now. He’s been so worked up that he hasn’t even noticed just how cold the harsh wind is against his face or how quiet and dark the space around him is or how much his neck burns and his back aches.

The streetlights flicker dimly above him and barely illuminate the road as he walks further and further into the night. He wishes he could keep walking, that he could just go and go and go forever until the darkness swallows him whole.

He doesn’t even notice that he’s reached the skate park that Jonas and him frequent until he hears a voice call out to him lightly, and he finally looks up.

“Hey, I know you.”

The boy.

 _Even_.

His eyes shine even more blue surrounded by the darkness. This time a hood is pulled up over his wild hair and his glasses are nowhere in sight.

He’s sitting on the back of one of the benches around the end of the park, his long limbs hanging carelessly, his face calm and relaxed just like the previous times Isak has seen him. Like he doesn’t have a single care in the world.

And it irks Isak.

So he replies shortly, “No you don’t.”

“Sure I do,” Even chuckles, turning slightly so he’s facing the smaller boy, “Isak. We go to the same school.”

“That doesn’t mean you _know_ me,” Isak says because it's true.

Even though he doesn’t mean to, Isak has a habit of taking his stress out on other people. His emotions building and settling steadily, with no place to go, until they make his tongue sharp and his words ugly.

But Even doesn’t seem to notice, or mind, he just lets out a soft chuckle, “Cute. I guess you’re right” He nods.

He still smiles in Isak’s direction. So confident and sure.

_Cute?_

Isak’s still annoyed with the other boy, he really is. But he also can’t help noticing how wide and beautiful the smile is. How calming and comforting it is - like everything is okay for this moment because Even’s smile is right in place.

His mood seems to soften without a second thought and most definitely without his permission and it makes his stomach clench.

Even reaches behind his ear to pull out the joint that was safely tucked away there.

His smile grows, “Want some?”

This time, Isak can’t help but smile back.

He makes his way over without saying anything in return, plopping down gracelessly beside the dirty blonde. He sits and watches as Even places the joint between his plump pink lips, lighting it with ease. The chill around them makes Isak shiver and he scoots closer to the boy next to him without realizing.

He licks his lips as Even inhales, watching his lashes flutter lightly and skim the top of his cheeks, and as he exhales and the smoke pours slowly from his soft looking lips.

“So, Isak,” Even breaks the silence “What are you doing out here so late all alone? It’s kind of weird.”

Isak snorts, reaching for the joint before Even even offers it to him, again making the other boy chuckle.

“You’re one to talk.” He replies, bringing the smoke to his own lips “You’re out here too. Actually, it’s kind of weirder and creepy. Sitting all alone in a park, offering young boys drugs”

“Touche.” He doesn’t elaborate any further and Isak doesn’t ask him to.

More silence follows but it’s a comfortable one. Isak doesn’t need the silence filled and it seems that Even doesn’t either. So, they’re quiet as they pass the joint back and forth until it’s almost completely gone.

Isak lets his eyes drift to the boy beside him from time to time and he can’t help but let himself wonder. It’s a new and strange sensation. He hasn’t ever really wondered about anyone before. He hasn’t cared enough to be curious about someone’s life, curious enough to ask questions and wait for answers. He’s never _wanted_ to know someone, He already had too much shit on his plate to deal with anyone else’s shit.

But for some reason Isak wants to _know_. He doesn’t want to pretend and shrug and fake a laugh. He wants to ask. He wants to know what’s behind that wide, happy smile.

Like, why _is_ he out here so late? Is it anything like Isak’s reason?

When Even’s fingers brush Isak’s for the first time, it’s fast and light and quite anticlimactic, but it doesn’t stop Isak’s stomach from flipping and his fingertips from tingling and his brain from screaming at him. _You’re not fucking like that_.

“You’re a first year?” Even asks, not noticing Isak’s internal battle as he places the joint to his lips again.

“Second.”

“Hmmm,” He nods.

“What about you? You said you were new.” He asks casually, like he doesn’t care, like he isn’t practically burning to know anything new about this odd, mysterious boy in the jean jacket.

“Mhm,” He nods, taking his last puff, tossing the finished joint onto the ground. “Third year. I transferred from Bakka.”

“You transferred your last year?” Isak wonders.

Even just chuckles and answers vaguely, “It’s a long story.”

“You laugh too much.” Isak tells him.

At that, of course, Even laughs again as he raises his eyebrows and tilts his head towards the blonde beside him. He pauses for a moment, his eyes running over Isak’s face the same way they did the other day in the hallway.

Isak hopes it’s dark enough that Even doesn’t see his cheeks turn that stupid color red or his eyes widen from the gaze. Or the bruises that are forming around his neck.

“Tell me, Isak,” Even says instead, a light lovely smirk still playing at the edges of his mouth, “How does one laugh too much?”

Isak swallows his words. He feels the drugs start to take effect. His body becoming heavy and calm and his mind becoming open. So, he lets himself just stare. His eyes run over Even’s features again and again. Sharp and strong yet subtle and delicate. His lips are slightly chapped and the prettiest color pink. He’s cheeks are wind-stained red from the cold and a few loose strands of hair hang loosely from underneath his hoodie. His eyes are kind and soft as he looks back and doesn’t seem to mind Isak’s silence.

Isak can hear his own heartbeat, steady and firm, in his ears.

When Isak sees the other boy’s lips pull up more at the corners though, he ducks his head, glancing up through his lashes just slightly, and his cheeks growing hotter.

Even knows he’s staring. Staring in a way he shouldn’t be. _It’s not like that_ , the paranoid part of his brain wants the say. The part that thinks Even can see right through him, read his thoughts, hear his heartbeat too. _I’m not like that_.

But Even just bites his lip, “We’re out of weed.”

“Hmm?” Isak furrows his brows in confusion.

“Weed.” Even smiles “That was the only joint I had.”

“Oh,” Isak nods, his eyes feel sleepy and his body feels light, “well, you got anything stronger?”

He regrets asking immediately. His tongue seeming to have a mind of it’s own as the words carelessly tumble from his lips. He really didn’t mean to ask that. He knows it’s not something everyone is into and he knows it’s not something he should be letting everyone know he’s into. Especially extremely handsome and kind seeming strangers who he knows nothing about. That’s dangerous.

He hates that’s the first place his mind went. And that if Even _did_ have something stronger for him, he’d take it, snort it, pop it. It didn’t matter.

“Huh?” Even leans back slightly, seeming genuinely confused by Isak’s words, like he was speaking another language.

“Nothing, nevermind,” he brushes it off quickly, hopping down from the bench, and barely even turning to give the boy a wave. “I gotta go. See you.”

He pulls his hood over his head, wanting to shrink away into nothing, shoves his shaking hands in his jacket pockets and prays Even didn’t see.

He walks away, quickly and stubbornly.

He doesn’t turn back when he hears the boy's voice call out, “See you around, Isak.”

He closes his eyes - hating and loving the way his heart does flip-flops.


	3. The Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always please ignore any grammar/spelling mistakes because I can’t edit for shit. Honestly, I have no excuse except that I'm never in the mood to edit after I finish a chapter. I'm all written out! 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone deciding to continue reading this fic. Enjoy!
> 
> Next chapter will include a lot more Even and a lot more Evak. So no worries! :)
> 
> WARNING: Please remember to check the tags before reading! This story is going to start moving along and we are going to start getting into some dark and triggering topics.

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_"I'm terrified of my own heart, of it's constant hunger for whatever it wants. The way it stops and starts."_

......

Isak can’t really remember a time when he didn’t hate his reflection. Rationally, he knew there had to have been a time but he doesn’t remember it. He doesn’t know _exactly_ when it started or how but for as long as he can remember he avoided mirrors, avoided the person that would be staring back at him.

When he was younger, around twelve or thirteen, he used to stare at his small scrawny frame, his weak skinny arms and learn to hate all those things. His nose was slightly crooked and his teeth were a little too far apart. His eyes would run over his pimple covered chin and his frizzy unkempt hair and it’s like it just clicked one day. He finally understood why all the other boys in school laughed at him and called him names. He knew why he didn’t have any friends. He was a pretty pathetic sight.

He’s avoided mirrors ever since.

Now, he looks straight into the one in his bathroom and he still hates what he sees.

Isak looks awful this morning. His eyes look half-closed with the way his sleepy eyelids droop, the skin covering his sharp cheekbones looks even paler and more empty than usual, and then there are the bruises.

They are darker today - scattered across the side of his neck in a deep purple color, dipping down to reach the top of his collarbone where his father’s forearm was pressed against him tightly. The pain is dull and demanding and doesn’t let Isak forget.

They weren’t big bruises or anything overly violent seeming at first glance, but he knew that if anyone looked closely enough that they would see the perfect outline of his father’s large, powerful, and brutal fingers.

They would be able to see Isak’s pain and weakness as plain as day, marked into his skin for the whole world to see.

He swallows the feelings bubbling up in his chest, shaking his head furiously.

He glances at his phone as it vibrates loudly against the bathroom counter.

 **Lea:** _The lady on the bus next to me smells like cabbage and won’t stop talking about her parrots. Quick escape without saying a word or should I be polite and say excuse me?_

Isak lets himself smile lightly.

 **Isak:** _Just leave. Quick and painless. Like a bandaid. Rip and go. It always works for me._

 **Lea:** _Thanks big brother_

When Isak arrived back home last night it was dark and quiet and still. The glass that had been shattered was long cleared away, as were the screams and tears and rage of the night, it was all covered up - like it had never even happened.

Tomorrow would be just that, life would go on, and it would be as if nothing happened at all.

His heart ached when he entered his room and seen his little sister there wrapped up in his blankets - small and fragile looking - her fingers curled firmly around his bed sheets. The way her body was half above and half below the covers told Isak that she was tossing and turning, waiting for him to arrive home before finally giving into the tiredness of her body.

He quickly shed his jacket and made his way over to her. Her body was tense and her sleep didn’t look like a peaceful one. Isak unclenched her tightly closed fists from the fabric of his bedding and smoothed a finger over her furrowed brow.

Her eyes fluttered open and met his in the dark. She sighed at her brother - a sigh of relief. It’s a sigh she had given him plenty of times before when he wandered back into the house, a little high and a little lost, after three in the morning.

He had opened his mouth to apologize for not being there when she got back. He wanted to apologize for not being _better_ , for not being stronger for her. He wanted to tell her that he didn’t mean to be so weak, he just didn’t know what to do anymore.

But Lea shushed him, “It’s okay.” She had told him, like she could read his thoughts anyway. She touched his neck and she didn’t need to look to know there would be bruises there. “I cleaned up the glass. I know you wanted to be here.”

Isak didn’t say anything back. He didn’t need to.

This morning Lea was already gone before Isak woke up. She had left an apple on his pillow and a note saying he didn’t eat enough fruits and vegetables. It made him laugh and he did manage to take a few bites from the sweet fruit before his stomach clenched, rejecting the food completely.

Lea doesn’t pretend yet. Well, she has to a little, in order to survive in this house you have to be slightly good at pretending - hiding feelings or ignoring them all together. But Lea hasn’t turned into Isak yet. She hasn’t buried herself away, she hasn’t hidden the truth in the deepest parts of herself. She is still honest and truthful and trusting and good.

Isak doesn’t ever want to see that part of her go, he doesn’t want to watch the light behind her eyes dim and dull until it’s nothing but a flicker.

So, if he can take the brunt of it all here - he will. He’ll take it as long as he can. He’ll let himself be hit and tossed around. He’ll let himself be chipped around the edges and scratched along the surface.

And when she’s finally safe and far, far away from this place, maybe things _will_ be okay, just like Lea tells him. Maybe he can follow after her and go far, far away too. He’ll go somewhere and he’ll make it so he never has to look back.

He knows his hope is probably way more blind than he even knows, but it keeps him breathing, it keeps him moving forward in this moment. So he lets himself hope and he lets belief settle into his body and he lies to himself for just a little while longer.

He knows that no matter how good he is at pretending that the ghosts here will never stop following him, clinging to his body and haunting his mind. A sickness has been placed inside him that can never be taken back, never be erased.

Pictures will always flash behind his closed eyelids in the dark of the night when sleep won’t come and his body is restless.

_A large, rough callused palm covering his mouth, smothering his cries._

_Hot wet slimy lips pressed to his small ear - whispering things that made his stomach roll with sickness._

_The weight on top of his small shivering frame - too hot and too heavy._

_“It’s okay, angel. It’s supposed to be this way.”_

His eyes snap down quickly to his phone as it vibrates once more, shaking him from his thoughts again.

 **Chris:** _Meet me in the main hall bathroom before first bell. I have a present for you, party boy._

He closes his eyes, tilting his head towards the ceiling, letting out a long and shaky sigh - letting some of the tension go, letting his muscles loosen slightly.

Isak both does and doesn’t know what Chris’ text means. It makes him nervous but it also makes him excited and giddy and eager to arrive at school.

He gives himself one last quick glance in the mirror, pulling on his thick red scarf, adjusting it to make sure none of his marks show before he sighs one last time.

He lets his eyes linger on the drawer that holds a little white baggie before walking past it quickly and out the door.

.

 

.

 

.  
  
Cupid’s bow lips and soft blonde curls. Light scattered freckles and a snug fitting red snapback. Piercing green eyes that are both somehow sad _and_ full of life. Eyes that carry hidden secrets and sealed lips that hide unspoken words.

These are just some of the things that Even hasn’t been able to stop thinking about since he started at Nissen.

_Isak Valtersen._

Even’s only spoken to him a handful of times, two to be exact, but he’s seen him around enough.

He’s always with a small group of boys, but not really _with_ them, as he always seems lost in his own world. His eyes drifting away from his friends as his mind drifts away from the conversation. His lips pout in what seems like a permanent frown staying in it’s place.

He tries to hide in plain sight, folding into himself, crossing his arms across his chest like some kind of barrier from the outside world - his back hunching as he tries to get away from the reality he’s in.

Even wonders if his friends see it too. If they take notice to the way that Isak’s smile never really reaches his eyes or his laugh never truly sounds genuine. Or if they’re just as oblivious as everyone else that Isak has fooled.

But he doesn’t fool Even.

Even knows that look. He’s _had_ that look. It’s loneliness.

_Isak Valtersen is lonely._

Even sees it in the way he forces laughs across the cafeteria or the way he walks in the halls among the other kids - with his head down and his fists clenched. He sees it in the vacant way his bright green eyes stare but don’t see.

Last night had been some kind of miracle honestly. Something like fate if Even let himself believe.

Even was restless, unable to sleep or stop the thoughts, so he bundled up and went for a walk hoping to tire himself out a bit. It wasn’t really a bad kind of restless. He knew he wasn’t in a state of mania or anything. Sometimes his brain just didn’t let him fully rest. Mental illness was a bitch.

He’d only been walking for ten minutes or so when he came to the skate park - a perfect place to sit back and enjoy a smoke.

And then he heard him - his hasty and scattered footsteps coming closer and closer. The cool Autumn air was blowing his loose curls every which way, making Isak squint his eyes against the night and walk a little faster against it. His hands were shoved into his jacket pockets, shielded from the cold. His jeans were too thin and too tight.

The way the moonlight hit his face made him look slightly younger - in an innocent and vulnerable kind of way. A way that made Even want to take Isak away and hide him from anything that could cause him harm.

But he also looked distant and rough.

 _Untouchable_.

Isak seemed lost. Not in the _‘I don’t actually know where I am please give directions’_ kind of way but in the soul searching kind of way. The spiritually, morally, mentally kind of lost.

The kind of lost that hurts.

Like he’s lost and he knows that no one is looking for him.

Maybe if he tried hard enough, Even could be the one to find him.

So, Even said _fuck it_ , and called out casually even though his heart sped up a beat when Isak’s bright unsteady eyes met his own through the darkness.

He was cute and grumpy and agreed to smoke with Even.

His precious pink lips wrapped around the joint so beautifully and the way he exhaled the smoke - lazy and relaxed - was so appealing to Even.

He smelled fresh and clean and his nose burned a bright red color from the cold.

It almost felt wrong every time he snuck a glance at the younger boy. Like he was seeing a hidden and private part of Isak that he shouldn’t be witnessing. A part of Isak that wasn’t meant to be seen. He didn’t seem as guarded as he did at school or as tense. He seemed....okay. He seemed laid-back. Almost serene looking.

And maybe Even _wasn’t_ supposed to be seeing this part of him, but while he got the chance he wasn’t going to waste it.

So, he tried to talk and make Isak smile. Isak seemed to be a man of few words but he did ask questions in return and that made Even’s heart grow two sizes - knowing that the blonde cared enough to want to know stuff about him too. He wasn’t just nodding and brushing him off like Even had anticipated. He was actually engaging.

Sure, Even hoped that the other boy would want to talk, would want to get to know him back, but he couldn’t be sure. It was hard to get a read on him, which was incredibly frustrating to Even because he always prided himself on being good at reading people, gauging their moods, their feelings.

Isak, however, was a complete mystery. And whatever he was hiding, whatever he didn’t want people to know, it was locked up tight.

But he was staring back at Even last night...he was staring at him like _that._ So innocent and sweet and delicate seeming. His eyes peeking shyly through his lashes while the loveliest of blushed filled his cheeks.

Even was determined to learn about the boy.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been smiling like an idiot at his own bedroom ceiling but he shakes his head, trying to get the look off of his face - it doesn’t work. 

He keeps picturing the smaller boy - pouting and smoking and furrowing his eyebrows in confusion - like this was all new to him. Human interaction.

 _You laugh too much,_ he had told Even. Which, of course, made Even laugh some more. He didn’t know such a thing was possible.

Laughing made Even feel good. It made him feel real and present and _alive_.

He reaches for his phone as he feels it vibrate loudly in his pocket, suddenly snapping him out of his Isak hazed thoughts.

 **Mamma:** _Don’t forget to take your meds baby. I love you. Call me when you’ve got some spare time._

Even smiles softly at the screen.

His Mamma can be clingy and annoying and way too over protective, but she’s trying and it makes Even’s heart warm.

He’s been in his own place for almost exactly six months now. The first two were a nightmare. His mother called every single hour on the hour to ask Even how he was feeling, how he was settling in, if he had made any friends yet. It was understandable, considering everything he had put his mother through, but he was still a nineteen year old high school student who needed his space. He ended up blocking his Mother’s number at one point and yelling at her when she showed up to his apartment unannounced.

But they eventually talked it out  in therapy together and she eased off. It’s still a process but it’s going much, much better.

Even doesn’t feel so smothered and he finally checks in enough to make his mother feel secure.

His Father is a lot less clingy, only texting from time to time to say hi, calling only once in a blue moon.

It’s been over a year since the _incident_ as Even refers to it. And things are finally evening out. He’s on his meds, his parents are beginning to trust him again, he feels good. Sure, he still has his ups and downs but he’s getting better and better every day.

 **Even:** _Taking them right now, Mamma. I’ll call you after school. Love you too._

 **Mamma:** _ <3 _

Even makes his way to the kitchen, pulling the orange bottles from the cabinet, placing a few small pills onto his tongue before washing them down with a glass of water.

He shoots a quick message to Sana before heading out.

 **Even:** _I’ve got news!!!! Meet me at my locker before first bell._

.

 

.

 

.

Isak’s body is practically vibrating by the time he gets to school.

He sees his friends gathered in the school yard. They’re laughing and probably picking on Magnus. Isak can see the deep practically permanent blush staining the boy’s cheeks as Jonas and Mahdi laugh lightly.

He watches as Jonas’ eyes glance around every few minutes, keeping his eye out for his younger friend.

Isak’s heart warms at the sight. He was searching for Isak, waiting for him to arrive. He wanted to make sure he was okay, to ask him if he needed anything, to make sure he didn’t need a place to crash again.

Isak knew he didn’t deserve that kind of friendship. But he was a selfish person, so he took it anyway.

But today Isak wasn’t in the mood for questions. He didn’t want to be worried about or fussed over. He didn’t want to be forced to lie to his friend’s once again, easy and light. He didn’t want to have to pretend everything was better than it was, he didn’t want to be that person right now.

Things weren’t okay.

 _He_ wasn’t okay.

He wanted to run.

He wanted to forget.

He wanted a pretent.

So, he turned away from his friends and headed to the first hall bathroom.

..

It doesn’t happen often - meeting Chris like this in public. Isak was always too paranoid to speak to the other boy in public. Afraid that if he looked at Chris too intently, if his eyes lingered just a little longer than they should have - everyone would be able to see right through him.

They’d know what he was.

He was only there for about fifteen minutes before Chris entered with a wide, white, unsafe smile and a glint in his eyes - one that reminded Isak of a predator stalking its prey.

Chris just stared for a moment, his eyes meeting the smaller boy’s in the mirror Isak faced. The hood of his dark hoodie was pulled over his soft brunette locks, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder, his jeans fitting snuggly in a way that made Isak’s throat feel tight.

“Hey, Party Boy.” Chris greets him casually.

His voice is smooth and light and it makes Isak’s skin prickle with excitement.

“Hey,” Isak says back in a small quiet voice.

It makes Chris’ smile hitch a little higher.

He steps closer and his body is suddenly close enough for Isak to smell his cologne - strong and masculine.

He doesn’t really know what to expect from Chris, he never does. Chris kind of always just does his own thing while Isak follows blindly behind.

“You look tired,” Chris notes, his eyes still not leaving the blonde’s face, “You need a pick-me-up?”

Isak can’t seem to look away either.

He doesn’t answer, but Chris doesn’t really wait for him to as he closes the space between them - his body pressing against Isak’s fully. Hips against ass, chest against back.

Isak lets out a shaky breath through slightly parted lips. His body’s instant reaction is to lean back into the heated feeling of another body against his own but he stops himself. He reminds himself of where he is, _who_ he is.

His eyes flick to the door.

“Don’t worry,” Chris’ breath is hot against his neck, he smiles when he feels Isak shiver, “everyone is outside waiting for the bell. No one’s coming in.”

Isak doesn’t say anything in return but the words do nothing to comfort him.

Chris’ smooth warm palms settle on Isak’s narrow hips, his fingertips dipping beneath Isak’s jacket to touch the bare skin there.

The hair on Isak’s arms begins to rise as a warmth begins to spread through his body. A warmth that feels equal parts right and wrong.

He squeezes his eyes shut for only a moment before Chris presses a quick closed-lip kiss to his cheek, and he lets out a gasp, eyes flying back open.

Chris raises his eyebrows, almost as if he’s daring Isak to pull away and tell him to stop, like he’s testing the younger boy. Like he knows Isak won’t.

And Isak doesn’t pull away.

He doesn’t really know why. He normally would. He would push Chris away angrily and spit something harsh and mean at him while his body went rigid. He would tell him they didn’t do that here. That they didn’t do that anywhere anymore.

He would tell him that it’s disgusting and he didn’t want any part of it.

He would lie and he would hide.

But there is something about the sparkle in Chris’ eyes - something exciting and bright and mind-numbing.

Isak feels the soreness of his neck and remembers his tears from last night and the way his father had left this morning without saying a single word to him. He thinks about how he’ll never get an apology from him or an _I love you_.

He’s angry. He’s angry that he’s small and weak and pathetically desperate. He hates everything and everyone - himself most of all.

So, he doesn’t pull away, knowing that Chris has something, _anything_ that will make his mind go blank and forget all of it.

Isak just breathes deeply through his nose, raising his eyebrows back at the boy behind him in challenge, and he finally lets his body sink just slightly back into the brunette’s. They both know it’s not going to lead anywhere sexual, not here in the school bathroom, in public. Just this small touch is making Isak’s heartbeat go crazy - not just from the closeness but from the fear, the guilt, the shame.

Chris’ smirk is confident and smug. He won.

He rests his chin on Isak’s shoulder lightly, never letting his smile drop or his eyes leave the wide inquisitive green ones in the mirror. His face pushes into the thick fabric of Isak’s scarf, hiding half of his face.

Isak feels the warmth of his right hand disappear, as the left one begins to rub tiny circles on the small patch of skin.

He doesn’t move or back down.

Chris reaches into his pocket before he holds up a small white pill with a smiley face on it and it looks like heaven held between his fingertips. Isak’s eyes zero in on it, wide and curious and excited, just like Chris had predicted.

“What is it?” He asks softly, his voice sounds far away to him, like it’s not really his own.

Chris chuckles, “Does it matter? It’ll make it better.”

Isak’s eyes meet Chris’ in the mirror for a moment.

Isak truly didn’t know what Chris got out of any of this. He didn’t understand what he got out of feeding Isak like this, giving him free drugs and light touches that usually didn’t end up leading anywhere. Isak was broken and fragile and didn’t have much to offer in return.

They didn’t know anything about each other really, at least not anything of substance. Chris didn’t know what he was making better for Isak, but then again maybe he didn’t really care.

Maybe Chris just saw the sadness in Isak’s eyes and the hunger in his heart - demanding something to take it all away, to make him numb.

Because by the way Chris’ deep brown eyes were dilated right now, his smile dark and dangerous, it seemed that Chris liked to be numb too.

In this moment it really _didn’t_ matter.

So, Isak nods, letting his lips fall open in an invitation, peeking his tongue just slightly through them.

Chris’ eyes sparkle as he leans forward.

Isak lets him place the small pill on the tip of his tongue and Isak lets himself relish in the sweet excitement of it all. He doesn’t let himself think about the _after_. He just focuses on right now - Chris’ hands on his body - maddening yet comforting. He tastes the bitterness of the pill on his tongue. His body buzzes in anticipation at the numbness and freeness he knows will follow in this moment.

Isak shivers when Chris’ fingertips skim across the pale skin of his cheek. But he bats them away quickly, as if it’s his body’s natural reaction to reject this kind of touch, and he glares at the boy behind him through the mirror.

Chris just chuckles.

“Don’t worry, party boy,” Chris tells him lightly. His breath smells like coffee and sweet things. “I’ll get you on your hands and knees again. Soon enough.” His lips are soft looking and spit-slicked.

Isak doesn’t let his eyes linger there too long.

And then Chris is gone and Isak is left alone in the silence of the bathroom.

Just him and his reflection.

His body sags as the excitement and energy from just moments ago begins to fade from the space around him.

He pulls his phone from his pocket when it vibrates against his leg.

 **Jonas:** _Hey bro. Everything cool? First bell is about to ring._

Isak sighs.

No matter how fast he tries to run, reality is always so closely behind him.

 **Isak:** _Yeah its cool. I’m here. Just not feeling well. I’m in the bathroom. I’ll see you at lunch._

 **Jonas:** _Sounds chill._

.

 

.

 

.

Isak leans on the table in front of him, a hand supporting the weight of his head lazily as the teacher in the front of the class drones on and on. He watches as the wind blows through the trees outside the dirty window. He listens to the sharp knock of the branches against the glass. He lets his mind be blank and empty and numb for this moment, hoping it lasts.

It’s midday now and the day has been dragging on.

He feels his whole body slump with his tiredness, he feels the soreness of his neck, and the dullness aching inside of his chest.

He’s waiting for the little white pill to take effect.

“Isak!”

Isak jumps, turning his head so fast that the room spins for a moment. He hasn’t really eaten anything since lunch yesterday and it’s making his head a bit foggy.

“Can you at least try to pay attention?”

Isak sighs at Sana, his annoyingly stubborn and studious biology partner.

Isak actually kind of likes Sana. She’s sassy and quick-witted. She’s smart and doesn’t fall for any of his bullshit and sometimes she actually manages to get him to laugh.

But on days like this, when Isak just wants to sink away into the chair beneath him and not move until the bell rings, Sana is his worst enemy.

She insists on actually doing the work in class, so she doesn’t have to do anything at home. Whatever.

“Sorry,” He mumbles, not really meaning it.

Sana rolls her eyes, “No you’re not.”

“I’m just tired today.” He uses this excuse a lot with her but it’s not like it isn’t true.

She nods, scribbling notes furiously on the papers in front of her, Isak doesn’t even know what today’s topic is.

“You’re always tired.”

Isak lets out a fake laugh, his eyes rolling upwards, not disputing the fact.

“So, I heard you hung out with Even last night.”

That takes Isak by surprise, he finally looks over at Sana fully. She’s stopped writing and is now staring up at him with serious and thoughtful eyes. She plays with the loose fabric of her hijab as she waits for him to reply.

“Hmm?” His face scrunches in confusion, eyes narrowing in her direction.

“Even. Even Næsheim” She says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world how she would know this information. “You hung out with him at the park last night.”

“Well, yeah,” Isak says slowly, growing more confused, he realizes that he didn’t even know Even’s last name until now “How the fuck do you know that?”

“He’s my best friend,” Sana shrugs “He told me.”

Isak nods, letting his eyes drift down to the black tabletop, he draws invisible patterns there with his index finger.

Sana and Even don’t really fit in Isak’s mind. They seem like an odd duo. But it’s not like Isak knew very much about friendship. Or Sana. Or Even.

Isak had almost forgotten about Even and last night.

Well, okay, that’s not true. Isak has been _trying_ to forget about Even and last night since he woke up from the pitiful two hours of sleep he got.

He’s been trying to make his mind push away images of pale blue eyes and wind-wild hair. He’s been trying to bury the thoughts of a loud-happy laugh that made his skin prickle with warmth and his stomach fill with tiny flutter-feelings.

And he’s especially been trying to forget about his stupid fucking mouth and the words he let spill from it.

He wonders if Even told her about that part. About how fucked up he is that he can’t even have a simple conversation in a park with someone without ruining it.

When he ran away from Even, he walked for another hour or so, he didn’t want to go home - he didn’t want to go anywhere. He just wanted to be gone. He couldn’t stop thinking about the boy at the park or his stupid laugh or his dumb hair or the way Isak ruined it.

Isak jumps yet again when the bell rings, dismissing class, before he gets a chance to think of a reply to the girl by his side.

Sana stays for a moment, still studying Isak’s face as he glances back up from the desk, those same deep brown eyes narrowing.

Her gaze is light but intense. Like she’s trying to figure something out, trying to read something on his face, or in his mind. And it makes Isak feel slightly uneasy.

“What?” He laughs awkwardly, eyes flicking to the door, to his escape.

“Don’t hurt him.” She says - voice firm and final - leaving no room for anything else to be said.

And then she’s gone, leaving Isak feeling wary and confused.

 _Why would hurt Even?_ How _would he hurt Even?_

He didn’t even know the guy.

He exits the classroom slowly, lazily, not really in the mood to see the guys today. He was hungry but not in the mood to eat and he really wasn’t in the mood to pretend today.

Eva is standing outside of the classroom when he finally does make it into the hallway. She’s leaning casually against the lockers across the way. She’s wearing a pink flowery dress that falls just to her knees, and that it’s way too cold out to be wearing. Even through the crowd of people hurrying past them carelessly, quickly, and loudly he hears her call, “Hey, slowpoke.”

Eva’s smile is small but bright. Her smile is full of secrets and fun and numbness.

She walks over to him - confident and casual.

She tilts her head to the side, letting her long brunette waves slide messily from her shoulder. The movement exposes the dark purple bruises on her neck, different shapes and sizes, made by different mouths, very different from the ones on Isak’s neck.

Isak can’t deny that she’s a very beautiful girl. Her lips are plush and round and covered in a deep purple lipstick, her smile is inviting and intoxicating. It makes you feel like everything is okay for right now, like you can trust her. Her eyes are wide and expressive, lashes dark and long, skin sun-kissed and soft.

If Isak was a different kind of person he might want to kiss those lips and touch that skin.

“Wanna ditch?” She asks bluntly “Chris has more party favors.”

He knows he’ll feel guilty after this.

Jonas knows that Isak still hangs out with Eva, hell, Jonas still hangs out with her from time to time since they broke up. But Jonas doesn’t know that they hang out like _this._ He doesn’t know that Eva pretends too.

Just like before though, he doesn’t think about the after, not today. He just thinks about right now.

Isak nods, letting his friend take his hand in her own and pull him hurriedly through the crowd.

.

 

.

 

.

They’re in Chris’ car when the pill finally starts to work it’s magic. Working quickly, a feeling of warmth and energy and power rushes through Isak’s veins, making his skin tingle and his lips smile on their own.

“Are you just starting to feel that pill, party boy?” Chris calls from the front seat with a laugh, catching Isak’s expression in the rearview mirror. “Shit, your tolerance is getting up there, huh.”

Isak just shrugs, watching out the window as the trees and stores and people pass way too quickly.

Colors begin to turn richer and brighter and prettier in front of Isak’s eyes. His mouth begins to dry.

“Holy shit,” Eva laughs from the passenger side “He looks out of his mind. What’d you give him?”

“Just some X. Nothing extreme.”

Isak tunes out their voices. He focuses on the lightness in his head and the weightlessness of his limbs. The seat beneath him suddenly feels amazingly soft and Isak can’t help sinking back further into it, wanting it to wrap around him and swallow him whole. He feels warm and safe here in his own little world.

He doesn’t realize they’ve been driving long enough to reach the far side of town where the lights are always dimmer and the people are always lost and looking for something more. The people are hungrier here, lonelier too.

Chris mutters something to Eva quietly and Isak sees Eva slip some money into the palm of the boy’s hand.

When Chris’ door slams shut, Isak speaks, his words moving slowly. He feels like his tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth, he has to pull hard for it to move. His body feels both light and heavy at the same time. He tingles and sways.

“Where is he going?”

Eva’s head peeks around her seat, she smiles widely and wickedly and squints in her friend’s direction, then she laughs.

“Damn,” She says - voice laced with humor “You’re flying, boy.”

Isak nods as he feels his eyelids begin to grow heavy even though he doesn’t feel tired at all. He’s bursting with energy on the inside, colors flashing and swirling in his mind.

“He went to score some Coke.” She explains “Apparently he’s out of anything we can use.”

Isak licks his lips at the thought.

“Hows Jonas?” Eva asks randomly, looking down and playing with a loose thread on her dress.

Isak’s eyes widen at the mention of his best friend.

He had completely forgotten he told his friend he would meet him for lunch.

He pats his pockets until he finds his phone, it feels heavier than usual in his hand.

 **Jonas:** _hey where are you? thought you said you’d be at lunch._

 **Jonas** _: u alright bro?_

 **Jonas** _: whatever_

Isak swallows thickly as the feelings of guilt and shame begin to creep over him and pool at the bottom of his stomach. These feelings he knows so well but will never grow used to feeling.

“Well, he’s angry at me” Isak turns the screen of his phone to Eva.

She reads the messages and nods.

“He always was a worrier,” She concludes, speaking quickly and meeting Isak’s eyes through the space between them “I miss that sometimes.” She confesses, voice soft and low, like it’s a secret for only their ears to hear. “But he’s also a forgiver. He’ll get over it.”

Isak nods. He knows Jonas will always forgive him for being a fuck up but that doesn’t make his actions any less shitty.

Both Isak and Eva startle when Chris renters the car loudly and carelessly, plopping heavily into the driver’s seat and smiling brightly at nothing in particular.

His eyes are clearer than they were in the bathroom and it looks like Chris is in a hurry to change that.

“Alright kids!” He says loudly as he starts the car back up. His eyes meet the brunette’s beside him and then Isak’s. “Who’s ready for some madness?”

“Hell yes!” Eva laughs happily as they begin to move.

Chris unrolls the windows and let’s the car fill with the fresh air.

Isak closes his eyes as the cold breeze touches his face, kissing his lips forcefully, making them feel dry and chapped.

And Isak can feel it in the air around them. The wildness. The madness and coas and freeness and happiness of this moment.

It’s so strong and intoxicating as it flows through him.

When you get caught up in the act of escaping it’s hard to stop. The feelings will roll over you like a thick, heavy smoke. It will cloud your vision and your mind until you can’t remember why you wanted to escape in the first place.

The feelings will wrap themselves around your body like a blanket, like an armor - shielding your heart. You’ll forgot the pain and the anger and the hurt. And you’ll be okay. At least for a little while. It’ll make it’s way through your veins and cling to the roughness of your bones. It burrows itself inside of you until it’s the only thing you can think about.

Isak tucks his phone away, willing himself not to think about the text from his worried, thoughtful friend anymore.

And because he’s weak, he keeps his eyes closed, and he surrenders to the escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone leaving comments and kudos and taking the time to read! It means so much to me. Please leave a comment and let me know what you think! Should I continue writing this?


	4. Run Boy Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always - I am a lazy and shitty editor. Ignore mistakes.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone reading, leaving kudos, and commenting<3\. Your comments definitely keep me motivated to keep writing and posting so keep them coming!
> 
> Enjoy!

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

_"I am the only person that I can't run from."_

_......_

 

_It wasn't the first time Isak had seen an adult cry._

_He’d seen his Mamma cry when she got too sad and didn’t want to come into his room and read to him for awhile. He saw his Pappa cry once, when his own father had died a few years ago. He’d seen the grown-ups in movies cry all the time._

_But he’d never seen an adult cry like_ this _._

_So violently that his whole body shook as the sobs rolled through him again and again._

_Isak didn’t know exactly why the man was crying but it made him feel sad. It made him feel helpless and small and unsafe._

  _A small eleven year old Isak stood quietly in the corner, his arms wrapped protectively around his little sister who clung tightly to the fabric of his dirty sleep shirt. Lea had never seen anyone cry like this before either._

  _Their uncle had arrived a few hours earlier just as the children got tucked into bed and were drifting off to sleep. He banged on the door and screamed his brother’s name, waking everyone in the house up._

  _Mamma had stayed in bed but Pappa had run out into the den - frantic and alarmed._

_Now, the children watch as their father sits on the couch and tries to console his brother - whispering words of comfort and reassurance again and again - rubbing his back soothingly and shushing him._

_"She just left, Tom!” their uncle cries “She just packed her shit and left! Not a single explanation.”_

_I_ _sak’s father whispers something that he can’t quite hear before he stands, “Let me get you some water, Lee. And I need to put the kids back to bed. I’ll be right back.”_

_When their father reaches them, he lets out a long sigh, scrubbing his face roughly with the palms of his hands._

_Isak’s father did that a lot._

_It made Isak think being an adult must be a hard thing to be. He always saw how tired his dad looked after he would come home from work, he noticed the way his father’s eyes were always half closed and glazed over, and how the worry lines on his face would deepen with each passing day. It made Isak not want to get any older. He liked the age he was now. He liked going to school and learning. He liked riding bikes with his sister until the sun began to set and it was time for dinner. He liked when his Mamma would wander into his room and tell him magical stories about creatures in far away lands. He liked not having to worry about anything but that._

_He didn’t want that to end any time soon._

_He didn’t want to be like his father._

_Tom looks down at his children softly - his eyes as exhausted looking as ever._

_“I’m sorry we woke you up, kids.”_

_“Is uncle Lee okay, Pappa?” Lea asks quietly, not at all loosening the grip she has on her brother’s shirt. She always clutched to Isak when she wanted to feel safe._

_Tom sighs again, casting a quick glance towards his brother, “He’s just...sad. He’ll probably be staying here for awhile. But that’s nothing you kids have to worry about. Come on, Lea. Let's get you back to bed.”_

_Lea nods compliantly, letting out a yawn before she tugs at the fabric still held in her tiny fist._

_Isak gets the hint and leans down so she can place a soft kiss on his cheek._

_“Night Issy,” She says before taking her father’s hand._

_“Good night, Lea.”_

_“Isak, would you mind getting your uncle a glass of water please?” Tom asks._

_Isak nods, eager to help in any way that he could. He didn’t like seeing the kind of tears his uncle was crying._

_He hurries to the kitchen, having to stand on his tip-toes to reach the far up shelves that hold the cups._

_When he enters the living room his uncle is still crying, but this time they are small, quiet cries that are now muffled into his hands as his body hunches over and his shoulders shake just slightly._

_“Uncle Lee?” Isak’s voice is small and hesitant._

_Lee glances up at the young boy in front of him. His eyes are red-rimmed and puffy from his tears, his bleach blonde hair disheveled, his cheeks stained with the dried away water._

_Isak has only met his uncle Lee a few times before. His Pappa always said it was because they weren’t very close, which Isak never understood, because he was close with his sibling. He couldn’t imagine not seeing her every day._  

_Lee kind of looks like his father. He has the same shaped eyes and slightly pointed nose. His lips are thin and hard looking just like his father’s usually are. His eyes are soft and sad._

_“Hey, Isak.” The man replies roughly._

_Isak holds out the glass, “I got this for you.”_

_Lee smiles before taking the glass from the child._

_Isak doesn’t really know what to do after that. He kind of just stands, shifting from foot to foot and biting his lip. He’s tired and uncomfortable._

_Lee just continues to stare at the child in front of him with a small smile resting on his chapped, thinned lips. His eyes run over his nephew's face and loose blonde curls. His small fragile body and delicate petal soft lips._

_Isak doesn’t like the way his eyes feel on him._

_“I’m sorry you’re sad.” He whispers._

_Lee’s smile hitches higher as he places his large rough hand on Isak’s shoulder._

_“Thank you, angel.”_

.

 

.

 

.

He wakes up hot and confused. The air in the room around him is stuffy, weighing heavily on his chest and making his lungs work harder than usual.

His eyes open slowly, blinking against the harsh light above him.

He’s still bundled in his jacket and scarf from earlier today - sweat clinging to his body beneath the thick fabric.

He recognizes the smell of the sheets beneath him immediately. Both comforting and alarming. He’s at Chris’.

His mind is too foggy to remember but he can see it in flashes. Taking a small happy pill in the bathroom at school, snorting a few lines off of Chris’ backseat, Eva’s loud laugh and Chris’ slick smirk. He remembers Eva sitting on his lap and whispering lowly in his ear while another pill was slipping onto his tongue. Something that took away his energy and made the bright colors in his mind dull and simmer until he didn’t see anything at all.

“Welcome back, Party Boy.”

Isak turns to see Chris lying beside him - signature smirk in place - hazy eyes burning with wicked thoughts. He can see the sun setting through the window behind the brunette and frowns.

“What time is it?”

“Around 17 I think.”

“Shit!” Isak curses, patting his pockets down before reaching for his phone.

Chris’ rich brown eyes roll.

“You worry about them too much.”

“Just because you don’t have anyone who cares enough to check in with you doesn’t mean you have to be a dick.”

“Ouch.”

**Jonas:** _call me when u can bro_

**Jonas:** _pls_

**Lea:** _I’m going to a friend’s house after school. Pappa already knows. See you later. Please be safe today, Isak._

Isak replies to his sister quickly.

**Isak:** _I’m always safe. Have fun :)_

Isak sighs, letting his phone slip from his fingers, staring at the plain white ceiling above him. He can hear Eva’s quiet snores coming from the floor beside him. His head aches with a dull throb and his muscles feel stiff and sore.

Things are quiet for a few moments. Isak focuses on his slow breathing and trying to calm the heaviness of his heartbeat.

Then Chris speaks softly beside him, so softly and gently that it takes Isak by surprise. His words don’t match up with the voice he speaks in, “When are you going to stop playing hard to get, Party Boy? It’s been a few weeks since we fucked.”

Isak closes his eyes at the words - sounding so sharp and brutal out loud.

Chris isn’t usually so forward with Isak - at least not with his actual words, just his deliberate and bold actions. He knows that the younger boy scares easily.

Chris rolls his body towards the small blonde beside him, propping his head up on his hand and gazing lazily down at the boy. When Isak finally opens his eyes he finds a soft look in Chris’.

If Isak didn’t know Chris better he would have believed that the look was one of genuine care. He would have thought Chris actually wanted to know, wanted to understand, wanted to listen. But Isak knows better.

This is a game to Chris. He can have anyone he wants in school or out. Boy or girl. He’s good-looking and confident. He’s calm and collected. But he likes to go after Isak. He likes to play games with his mind and body and watch him squirm under his attention.

Isak is nothing more than an intriguing and entertaining way to pass the time. When it comes down to it...Isak knows _that_ is what Chris gets out of this, or at least a pretty big part.

Isak is an easy target for Chris, but not an easy puzzle to solve, and that’s what keeps it so interesting.

He likes wearing him down.

Isak swallows thickly and stares back.

Chris’ smirk hitches.

“Come on,” Chris practically whispers “Don’t you want to?”

Chris doesn’t ask for permission or wait for a reply as he slips a hand beneath Isak’s bulky jacket and places his palm against the bare skin of Isak’s stomach. He presses his fingertips into the soft and delicate skin there and doesn’t move. Just stares.

Isak hates the way his stomach trembles and his skin tingles from the touch - warm and heavy. He hates that he _does_ want it. He wants it so badly. And he shouldn’t.

“Chris,” He says quietly, not quite sure what to say next, but knowing he should say _something_. Something to get the brunette beside him to stop, to move away.

But he stays wordless.

Chris’ hand slides its way easily across the baby soft skin of Isak’s body until it reaches his chest - where his heart pounds against his bones - steady and solid.

“Do I make you nervous, Party Boy?”

Isak shivers.

He closes his eyes and can hear the smile in the older boy’s voice. The smugness and satisfaction. Chris knows Isak is weak, he knows how easy it is to win at this game.

“No,” Isak tells him.

And it’s true. It’s not _Chris_ that makes him nervous. It’s the thoughts swirling in his mind. The unruly, unwanted, irrational, disgusting thoughts that he just wants to disappear.

Thoughts that Chris won’t let him forget.

Chris snickers softly - not believing his words.

Isak still doesn’t stop him, however, as his hand moves again - this time in the opposite direction, moving lower and lower causing Isak’s stomach to begin to fill with dull but hot fire.

Isak hates his body. He hates everything about his body and it’s reaction to this touch, these moments.

He hates his skin and the way it doesn’t quite fit his body right. How it stretches too thinly around his frame. He hates his bones and how they never have seemed to be able to hold him together properly, cracking and shaking with every move he makes. He hates his muscles and their weakness - unable to fight, unable to let him protect himself.

He hates his mind and how it doesn’t let him rest.

He lets out an unsteady breath when Chris’ hand finally reaches it’s intended destination - cupping the growing hardness in Isak’s pants - a hardness that Chris expected to find there.

“See?” Chris laughs breathily “Nothing to be afraid of.”

Isak’s legs begin to tremble when Chris starts to push down, applying the slightest amount of pressure.

He bites his lip and clenches his eyes tighter.

He _hates_ his body. He hates it’s positive reaction to such a negative touch. He hates the itching at the back of his throat and the too-fast rush of his blood through his veins.

His fists clench tightly around the sheets of the bed. He trembles.

Chris’ breath is suddenly next to his ear - hot and heavy - whispering words that make Isak’s heart leap.

His whispers are dangerous secrets just for Isak to hear.

He gets lost in the feeling of the satisfying pressure of Chris’ hand, the growing warmth starting in the pit of his stomach and spreading through his body, the feel of the sweet breath against his skin.

“Motherfucking shit!”

Isak’s eyes snap open, the loud shout suddenly pulling his mind back, returning his senses. Eva is right beside them and obviously beginning to wake up. He shoves Chris’ hand away from himself roughly and sits up too quickly - the room spinning, his eyes unfocused and his mind unclear. White spots flash in his vision and he cradles his head in his hands to steady himself.

Chris groans, knowing he lost his hold on him for the moment, not knowing when he’s going to get it back.

He buries his face roughly in the pillow beneath him, “Fuck you, Eva.”

.

 

.

 

.

Eva tries to get him to stay but he manages to make his escape after drinking five glasses of water that do nothing to quench his thirst or cure the dryness of his throat. He hugs his friend goodbye and glares at Chris as he winks in his direction.

Isak makes sure to slam the door as he closes it behind him.

He wanders around for awhile, debating where to go and what to do. Not really wanting to go anywhere or do anything.

He glances at his phone and sighs in frustration when he sees that it’s dead.

He kicks the stray pebbles that litter the sidewalk and buries his cold chapped hands into his jacket pockets. His muscles ache with every step he takes and he needs to get out of the cold.

So, when he sees the small, empty seeming cafe at the end of the street, he doesn’t hesitate heading over.

.

 

.

 

.

  **Sana** : _Just be careful._

**Even** : _How many times are you going to tell me that, Sana?_

**Sana** : _What? I can’t be worried about you and remind you to be careful? What was Isak doing out so late anyway?_

**Even** _: I don’t know actually. We never got to that part._

**Sana** : _Just be careful, Even._

Even rolls his eyes _again_ but smiles fondly as he glances quickly back down at his phone.

He’s trying to walk as quickly as he can against the cold Autumn air as he makes his way to work.

**Even:** _Be careful of what exactly?_  

Sana is one of Even’s safe places at Nissen. He was honestly terrified to change schools so late - being a third year and not knowing anyone or knowing what to expect. He knew it would be a shock to his system, something that would take a lot of getting used to, but Sana kind of took him under her wing, showing him the ropes and making sure he settled in alright.

Even went to school at Bakka with her brother. Sana and him were never super close but they were always friendly and Sana was always sweet.

When shit went down a year ago though, Sana was one of the only people to ever keep in contact with Even. She didn’t judge him or look down on him.

She smiled like she... _cared_.

When he was locked away in the hospital - she visited. She brought him freshly baked cookies and read to him from his favorite novels and stayed to watch his favorite films with him.

She became his very best friend. She was honest with him and she watched out for him and made him feel cared for. And in turn Even did the same for Sana.

She always smells like warmth to Even - vanilla and sugar and goodness and home.

Even’s phone vibrates as Sana promptly responds.

**Sana:** _Isak seems fragile._

Even frowns.

It was an odd thing for Sana to say - like she _cared_ that he was fragile. Not that Sana wasn’t a caring person. She was. She was one of the best people Even knew. But Sana was also guarded and cautious of people she didn’t know well. And Isak was a person she didn’t know very well.

She told Even that she didn’t know much about her biology partner when Even had asked a few weeks ago. When he had found out that fact he asked question after question after question until Sana threatened to block his number and stop talking to him all together.

The only thing she did seem to know about the other second year was that he was quiet and usually cranky. She thinks he doesn’t sleep well because he nods off in class a lot or stares out the window blankly with dark bags resting underneath his eyes. She says that he is surprisingly good at biology when he wants to be though and he could have a five in the class if he actually tried to do the work. He just doesn’t.

Sana hasn’t really said much about Even’s obvious crush on the other boy. Whenever she catches him staring at Isak from across the schoolyard or bringing his name up in conversation one too many times, she just smiles with a shake of her head.

Even is still pretty new to this whole _I like boys_ thing but he also isn’t afraid of it anymore. He’s talked about it a lot in therapy, coming to terms with it, understanding it, accepting it.

It was just another part of who he was - like how he has a passion for romantic tragedy films and loves peanut butter toast.

“He is cute” Sana had once admitted when Even first told her “in a ‘look at me I’m a grumpy teenage boy I hate the world kind of way’. If you’re into that.”

But this morning when Even told her all about his encounter in the park and Isak’s weird and quick departure - Sana was oddly _too_ quiet. She had a thoughtful look on her face - like she didn’t know exactly what to say in response or she was trying to choose her words very, very carefully.

In the end, she had just nodded and said, “Be careful.”

**Even:** _Fragile how?_

**Sana:** _I was telling the truth when I said I didn’t know much about Isak but I hear things. He has a...reputation._

Even’s brows furrow. He hadn’t heard any rumors about Isak.

But to be fair he hasn’t been at Nissen that long. Although from what he could tell Isak pretty much kept to himself, he had a small group of friends and didn’t interact often with anyone else otherwise.

Not that Even cared about rumors. When he had to transfer schools the rumors going around about him at Bakka were ridiculous.

_He had murdered someone, having to suddenly flee the country and change his name, delete all his social media._

_He had slept with a teacher and was now in a hospital being treated for sex addiction._

_He went off the deep end and threatened to bomb the school and was kicked out._

The list went on and on.

So, no, Even wasn’t quick to believe silly rumors among teenage kids.

But he was also desperate for any kind of information he could get on the mysterious boy with secrets hiding behind sparkling green eyes.

**Even:** _Reputation?_

Sana doesn’t reply right away, and by the time Even is more than halfway to his work he loses his patience.

**Even:** _I’m not going to have a freakout, Sana. Just tell me._

He can almost hear Sana’s defeated sigh and see her eyes roll towards the sky as she gives into her friend.

She texts back,

**Sana:** _Stupid things really. A reputation with girls. Parties. Drugs. Whatever. They could be bullshit. I just want you to be careful. Don’t do anything impulsive._

Even doesn’t reply right away, giving himself a moment to absorb the new information.

He does remember Isak’s words from the night in the park.

His eyes were hazy and drooped and his words were slow and casual as the weed had taken effect, _well you got anything stronger?_

The words confused Even for a second, until the other boy had looked shocked and ashamed by his own question, stuttering and hurrying away from him and into the night.

Even hadn’t thought much of it. He just thought Isak was embarrassed for being so forward or something. It’s not like Even hasn’t tried a few things here and there while at parties. He was young and stupid too somethings.

But there was something... _off_ about the _way_ Isak had asked him.

Like it was second nature. His voice was almost...hopeful, almost desperate in a way, like he would be thankful for anything that Even had to give him.

He remembers the way Isak’s hands shook slightly as he shoved them away into his pockets, trying to hide. How he walked away almost angrily, making Even wonder what he did to offend the other boy.

The cafe comes into view as Even rounds the corner.

**Even:** _I promise to be careful._

He means his words as he types them.

He had been through so much shit last year and he didn’t want anything to fuck that up. Not even really pretty boys with soft looking lips and charming smiles and grumpy words.

Even was going to take a page from the Sana Bakkoush playbook and be cautious this time.

**Sana:** _good <3 _

But as Even enters the cafe, he has to imagine that this was something like fate again, because there in the corner was the very boy he had to be cautious of and at the sight of him Even felt like being everything but.

.

 

.

 

.

Isak is about halfway through his coffee when he realizes he doesn’t actually have any money on him.

He can’t seem to sit still either, his leg bouncing restlessly under the table as his fingers tap an uneven beat onto the tabletop. The coffee is horrible - old and burnt tasting - but he drinks it all anyway. He cracks his knuckles and picks at the chapped skin on his lips with his teeth. He thinks about anything else but the dull pain in his chest and head.

And then he hears a familiar voice, “Hey.”

Isak glances up to find brilliant blue eyes and an oddly inviting smile. Even. He looks just as happy as always. His hair is pushed back messily underneath a black throwaway hairnet and his body is covered by a dirty apron covered in spills and stains.

“Oh,” Isak greets in surprise “Hey.”

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Isak pauses. It was a cheesy and super cliche thing to say - paired with his unnaturally wide smile and upbeat attitude - Isak should have been turned off by everything that was Even Bech Næsheim. He should have wanted to roll his eyes and scoff and tell the other boy to leave him alone. But he didn’t. He didn’t want to.

Even’s presence alone was inviting enough to make Isak pay attention.

He found himself wanting to smile back despite his horrible headache and unfortunate circumstances. So he does.

He let his lips turn up slightly and he replies, “Yeah. Do you work here or something?” He asks, even though the answer is pretty clear.

“Yep,” Even replies, smile still in place “Most days after school.”

Isak nods, glancing down at his empty coffee cup, not really knowing how to continue the conversation. He didn’t want Even to leave but Isak wasn’t exactly good at these kinds of things. Being okay. Being normal. Talking with people. Making friends.

It was like those abilities had somehow gotten lost along Isak’s way.

Almost as if he sometimes had forgotten how to be a person all together. Like one single event, one single feeling, one single fucked up part of his life bleeds into every other part of him and his life.

But he doesn’t want that with Even.  

He wants to be normal - even if only for this moment and nothing more. He wants to be able to push everything aside and just talk to him. He wants to ask him questions and not have to think about the pounding in his head and the tickle in his throat and the disgusting thoughts planted into his consciousness.

He taps his worn down nails against his coffee cup and bites his lip, before glancing up at Even, hoping he’d take the hint and take the lead.

Even glances down at the cup before looking back at Isak, “Do you want another cup?”

Isak shakes his head quickly looking down and letting out an embarrassed laugh, “No, I’m okay.” He says quietly, “I actually...I don’t really have any money. I don’t even know how I’m going to get home to be honest.”

He lets out a long sigh and looks back up to find Even’s eyes once again.

Even just stares steadily back at him - looking thoughtful.

His eyebrows raise to his hairline.

Isak fidgets under the gaze, uncomfortable and self conscious as always, and he lets out another small laugh.

“What?”

.

 

.

 

.

Even’s apartment is tiny and neat. It’s made up of four rooms and very little furniture. The walls are white but not blank - they’re littered with papers filled with colorful sketches and song lyrics and movie quotes.

It’s the kind of place that makes you feel naturally comfortable, naturally calm. Isak doesn’t really know what to do with that kind of feeling.  

He stands stiffly as the door closes behind him.

He doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing here. Isak could have said no. When Even offered to bring him to his place after work and scrape up some change for the bus he could have easily said no thank you. He could have sucked it up and just walked home - alone.

But he agreed before he even had time to think about the consequences.

Even tosses his backpack lazily onto the small worn-in couch and turns to Isak - his eyes don’t give much away. He doesn’t look as happy as he did when he saw Isak at the cafe, maybe Even regrets this decision too. But he looks calm nonetheless, even if there is a cautiousness in his body language and a hesitation in his words. He stuffs his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and shrugs.

“Not much but it does the job,” He laughs awkwardly, letting his eyes linger anywhere but Isak.

Isak hasn’t seen Even like this before - kind of nervous and some what fidgety. Every other time he’s been around the boy he’s been happy and loud and confident. He talked enough for the both of them and made Isak feel warm inside.

He really didn’t know what he was thinking coming here. Last time he had a conversation alone with Even it had been a disaster. All Isak knew is that he didn’t want to be home but he really didn’t have anywhere else to go.

Isak was always running away from something, with nowhere real to run to.

“You live here alone?” Isak wonders, trying to make conversation.

Even nods, “Yeah, for a few months now.”

Isak nods back and lets his eyes scan the room.  

He has to push the envy that begins to make it’s way into his mind away. The feeling seems to be becoming a permanent staple whenever Isak is around the third year. 

He imagines what it would be like to have his own place - free of the craziness and the anger and the stress. Just him and Lea and the calm of the morning and comfort of the night.

Isak rocks back and forth on his heels and adjusts his scarf - not knowing how to fill the silence between them.

He peeks up at Even and waits for him to take the lead again.

Even stares for a moment, his blue eyes soft and relaxed. He finally smiles, in a way that Isak feels he could get used to if he let himself. His skin tingles.

“You hungry? I don’t have much but I can probably manage to whip something up.”

Isak’s stomach growls just at the mention of food and his cheeks burn red as he watches Even smile a little higher.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

.

They sit on the edge of the windowsill quietly as they eat. Apparently all Even had was bread and some old cheese he left out before he went to school. It was awful. But Isak ate both pieces that were put in front of him anyway.

He drinks four more glasses of water and itches his nose too much.

The silence that lingers between the boys isn’t awkward but it isn’t exactly comfortable like it was the time in the park. 

It’s a heavier silence.

Isak feels like Even is _watching_ him this time, not just passing glances or lingering stares. His eyes focusing on Isak a little too intently, running over his face one too many times, paying close attention to his movements.

He feels Even’s eyes on him with every bite he takes.

He feels his eyes on him as he pointedly avoids looking back.

He feels his eyes on him as he gazes out the window, watching the tree branches sway mildly back and forth.

“Do you have a charger I can borrow?” He asks suddenly, “My phone died.”

He pushes his empty plate away before pulling his scarf over his head and his jacket off his body. Isak can feel the sweat beginning to pool at the base of his neck, he sniffs, itches his nose again, and sighs in frustration. He can’t get comfortable on the hard seat beneath him.

He pulls at the neckline of his t-shirt and grunts.

“It’s fucking hot in here” He complains, finally letting his eyes meet Even’s “Don’t you have a fan?”

Even doesn’t reply for a moment - his eyes moving down and then up and then down again - before they stay locked on Isak’s. He just sits and looks. He doesn’t speak even though his eyes seem to scream with questions.

Isak just raises his eyebrows.

“Oh, no” Even answers, shaking his head lightly, seeming startled. “I usually just open the window a little when it gets too hot at night.”

Isak nods.

When Even stays silent he laughs, “Charger?”

“Right!” Even scrambles over to the couch to grab his charger from his bag “Right. Sorry.”

Isak plugs his phone in quickly before letting out a sigh and leaning back against the wall behind him.

He lets his body relax for a moment.

“So, Isak,” Even smiles, pulling his hood up and playing with the strings distractedly “What kind of music do you listen to?”

Isak rolls his eyes at Even’s lame attempt at conversation.

But he finds himself smiling, and he answers anyway, “I don’t listen to music.”

“What?”

“I don’t listen to music.” He repeats.

“No, no,” Even shakes his head. “I heard you but just... _what?”_

Isak lets out a small chuckle, not really seeing the big deal. He shrugs, “I don’t know I just...I guess I just don’t have time.”

Even shakes his head again, more disbelief clouding his expression, “You don’t have time? Who the fuck doesn’t have time to listen to music?”

“Well, I-”

“What about movies at least?” Even asks “Do you have any favorite movies?”

Isak stays silent, looking down, suddenly feeling abashed and self conscious about his answer.

He glances around at Even’s apartment again - filled with movie posters and song lyrics and scattered novels. He notices the guitar in the corner of the room and the fact that there isn’t a TV in the livingroom. 

He thinks about his room back at home - messy and small and ridiculously empty.

Isak bites his lip, picking at the chipping paint of the windowsill. He suddenly feels so small. He feels young and inexperienced and silly for being so stupidly wrapped up in his tiny little world.

He wants to talk to Even. He wants to talk to him about books and movies and music and life experience. He wants to understand and relate. But he can’t. He doesn’t know how. 

Even seems to pick up on his shifting mood.

“I mean...it’s fine if you don’t like music or movies or whatever.” Even tells him quickly, his voice flustered “It’s just...it’s just such an important coping mechanism for me. I couldn’t imagine not having those outlets.

Isak looks up to find Even’s eyes staring back - wide and uncertain.

“Coping mechanism?” Isak questions.

Even nods, smiling gently, “Yeah. I learned to use music as a way to cope when my emotions are all over the place or I’m feeling anxious or whatever. It helps me a lot.”

Even stands suddenly and makes his way back to the couch - he shakes his sweatshirt off before tossing it onto the coffee table and reaching into his backpack -producing another one of his safely stashed away joints

He turns back to the blonde behind him with a wide smile.

“I know something we do have in common.” He announces, almost proudly.

Isak nods but questions anyway, “Therapy?” He doesn’t mean for it to but the word comes out more like a scoff than a regular question.

“Mhm,” Even answers, sitting back across from him, flicking his lighter and bring the joint to his mouth, his eyes questioning as the smoke begins to pour from his lips “Why? You have something against therapy?”

He hasn’t really thought about it much - therapy that is. It wasn’t something that Isak thought about often. He has looked into psychiatrists a few times when his mom got too insane for him to handle. He used to text the links for the doctors to his father, but that always ended the same way - with yelling and anger and broken glass and bruised skin.

But right now - the thought of it makes his skin crawl. The thought of talking to a stranger, someone who is paid to care. The thought of telling them the things he keeps so tightly locked up inside his mind. The thought of them knowing, of _anyone_ knowing, just how fucked up Isak really is. It makes his stomach churn with sickness and his throat grow tight.

It makes him want to run.

He didn’t want to talk about those things. He didn’t want to remember those things. He just wanted them to go away, he just wanted to forget.

He scratches his nose and pulls at the collar of his shirt again - the space around him suddenly feeling small and hot once more. 

He shrugs, turning his head to gaze outside, “I don’t know. I just feel like my life isn’t anyone else’s business. Why do I want to spill my guts to a complete stranger?" 

Isak doesn’t look back at the older boy as he answers.

Even’s answer is immediate, his voice is quiet, “Validation. Being heard. Coping. Understanding your feelings. That’s what it is for me even though I assume it’s different for everybody. Sometimes it’s nice to know you’re not alone. That someone else understands.”

Isak lets his gaze wander back to Even.

His eyes linger there for a while, just taking the other boy in as he looks back over the smoke that rises and pools in the space between them.

He feels okay here. Here in Even’s cozy, quiet apartment under his curious and calm gaze. His words flow easily here even when his heart beats a little faster and the hair on his arms begin to rise. Even when the unnatural thoughts begin to push their way forward in his mind - he feels oddly warm and safe. He feels almost _normal_ . Comfortable _._

Something about the way Even’s eyes look intently on, no other motives in sight, filled simply with genuine curiosity and genuine care - it makes Isak shake on the inside.  

It scares the shit out of him.

He swallows thickly, audibly, “How could anyone possibly understand?”

Even smiles lightly, stretching his arm out to offer Isak the joint, he shrugs, “I don’t know. Why don’t you try it and find out.”

Isak rolls his eyes, his mind telling him to just let go, just be normal for this second, “God, you’re annoying.” He laughs.

 Even just laughs along with him.

They continue to talk about nothing and everything all at once - just like the night in the park. It’s easy for Isak to fall into the conversation. It’s easy for him to pass the joint back and forth with the boy in front of him without a care in the world about anything else.

It’s so easy for him to forget there. To forget his thoughts and doubts and fears. To forget that he even has to pretend at all.

Even’s smile makes Isak’s chest feel warm.

And he still thinks he laughs too much.

They talk until they’re both a little too high and the joint is practically completely gone.

Even tells him about his favorite movies and how he’s into 90s Hip-Hop. He gives Isak the names of albums he wants him to listen to and Isak nods even though he’ll most likely forget the titles in the morning. He tells him that his favorite subject is English and how he’s liking Nissen so far. He tells him that he knew Sana before he even transferred to Nissen and that he’s heard Isak is a pretty shitty biology partner - Isak rolls his eyes and laughs but doesn’t disagree.     

Then Isak reaches for the smoke one final time, taking it between his own fingers, and he pauses.

That’s when he sees it.

It’s long and jagged and slightly raised above the rest of the pale silky skin covering Even’s arm. A scar that stretches from his wrist to the crease of his arm, where it bends at the elbow. And when Isak’s eyes cast a quick glance to his other arm - he sees that there is an ugly scar there that matches.

Isak’s never seen a scar look so brutal - so loud and startling. He doesn’t know if it’s because of the violent intent that is so obviously behind them or the way they are too jagged and sharp seeming, or the fact that they are very clearly self inflicted.

Isak raises the joint to his lips as he raises his eyes back to Even’s - green meeting blue attentively. Something passes between them - an exchange that is silent but heavy.

Even doesn’t shy away from Isak’s gaze as he looks back searchingly - his eyes almost challenging, like he’s waiting for Isak’s reply, whether it’s good or bad. He’s testing the waters. It’s like he was waiting for Isak to notice, like he had wanted him to just so he could get it out of the way.

Isak doesn’t really know what to say. He doesn’t really know what he feels.  

He’s wished a million time over that he could just disappear sometimes. That everything would just stop. But he’s never thought about the actual meaning behind that. That he would actually have to die, stop his life once and for all. He’s never thought about how or where or when he would do it.

And Even obviously has.

He inhales the smoke deeply and feels his body settling even more comfortably against the wall. 

He should probably feel uncomfortable at the sight of Even’s scars, but if anything it makes him more relaxed, knowing that Even has a jaded past too.

He exhales steadily and decides to go for the direct approach, “Does you going to therapy have anything to do with those scars?”

Even shrugs, his smile slight and sad, “Maybe. Does you wanting _something stronger_ have anything to do with those bruises on your neck?”

Isak freezes as Even’s words register, his hand stopping mid air, the joint just inches from his lips.

He fucking forgot.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid, so fucking stupid._

He let himself fall for it. He let himself feel giddy and light at the beautiful color of Even’s eyes, he let his stomach flutter and his heart skip when Even’s lips smiled back at him softly. He let the thoughts creep in without a second thought. He let his guard down.

His bruises have been visible practically the entire time. And now Even’s seen it. He’s seen the weakness etched onto Isak’s skin so clearly.

It didn’t matter that Isak had seen Even’s weakness too. It didn't matter if this made him a hypocrite. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Even is looking at him, he’s really _seeing_ him.

And Isak knows he’s not going to like what he sees.

How could he possibly?

“Shit,” Isak curses, shoving the joint back towards the dirty blonde - he stands up way too fast as his heart leaps into his throat. “Shit, shit, shit.” He grabs his clothes up messily and carelessly reaches for his phone, ripping it from the charger.

“Wait, Isak, I’m sorry” Even tries to backpedal quickly, stubbing the joint out in the ashtray beside him. He follows Isak as he hastily makes his way to the door.

Isak stumbles over his own feet, tripping on the coffee table as he pulls his scarf back around his neck, and he jumps when he feels Even’s hand on him suddenly. He pulls away roughly when he feels Even’s hand touch his side - trying to steady him - a simple gesture of reaction. A gesture that shouldn’t have made Isak’s skin itch. A simple touch that shouldn’t make water pool behind his eyes or make his muscles tighten in fear.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Isak spins around, glaring back at the other boy, no ounce of kindness or calmness left in his voice, no comfortability left in his stare. He feels his body trembling as he stares back. His breath moving in and out of his body too heavily and too harshly. He clutches his jacket tightly to his body as he backs away until his back hits the front door.

Even holds his hands up in the air, taken off guard by the boy’s strong reaction. He takes a step back as his eyes widen.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I won’t touch you.” He says “I just...you don’t have to leave. I didn’t mean to-”

“I just” Isak shakes his head, staring down at the carpet beneath his feet. “I just...I have to go. Thank you for….I just have to go.”

And he does. He leaves without another word or thought or glance.  

As soon as he makes his way to the street below - he starts to run. His blood pumping through his veins violently and his heart pounding beneath his ribs. He runs and he runs and he runs and he doesn’t stop until the sky is completely dark and his can’t feel his legs and the only thing he can hear is the sound of his unsteady breathing.

He ends up the one place he always seems to when things get this bad.

His tail tucked between his legs and his guilt present and heavy on his shoulders.

Weak and pathetic and small.

Jonas’ face is hard and angry when the door first opens - ready to tell Isak how much of a fuck up he is again, ready to ask him where the fuck he’s been and what the fuck he’s been doing.

But then he sees the water streaming down his friend’s cheeks, the sadness and helplessness in his eyes, and the hopelessness of his stance.

“Can I stay here?” Isak asks quietly.

Jonas doesn’t even bother answering as he pulls the small boy in front of him into his arms and into the safety of his home - shutting the door behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still liking this? I'm not sure I'm completely satisfied with this chapter but I also thought it was a good way to show Even and Isak's first time really seeing each other and getting to know just a little more about each other. Let me know what you think! :)


	5. Hurt Like This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please ignore any sloppy and lazy editing. I'm horrible at it.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone reading and leaving kudos and comments! It means the world! <3\. This story is a very special and important one to me. So, the fact that you guys care enough to read and leave your feedback is amazing.
> 
> Also, I apologize in advance for this chapter. It gets a bit rocky. But I hope you guys trust me enough to just hang in there! There is a love story here. I promise.

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_“When we don't know who to hate, we hate ourselves.”_

 

......

"Are you cold?”

“No.”

“You’re shivering, Isak.”

“It’s fucking hot in here.”

“But I-”

“Just leave me the fuck alone, Jonas. I’m trying to sleep.”

“Okay.”

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 **Lea:** _Where are you? It’s getting late._

 **Lea:** _Isak? I’m worried._

 **Lea:** _Jonas just texted me. Stay safe. Love you <3\. _

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.

“You hungry?”

“No.”

“You’ve been here for three days and haven’t eaten anything. Have some water.”

“Fuck off, Jonas.”

“Not until you drink some fucking water, Isak.”

“Fine.”

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.

.

“Does Lea know I’m here?”

“Of course. I texted her.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem. Now get the fuck up...you sweat through the sheets again and it smells like balls in here.”

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 **Unknown:** _Hey._

 **Unknown:** _It’s Even._

 **Unknown:** _I just wanted to check and see if you were okay. You left pretty quickly and forgot the bus money._

 **Unknown:** _I got your number from Sana btw_

.

.

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“Give me my phone.”

“For the hundredth time, Isak, no.”

“Fuck you, Jonas! You can’t keep my fucking phone hostage. Give it to me.”

“You’re just going to call Chris. Just wait it out. The chills will stop.”

“So what if I want to call Chris? Is that a fucking problem? You’re not my goddamn mom, Jonas. Give me my phone.”

“No.”

“Fuck you! And I do not have chills!”

“Go back to sleep, Isak.”

“Fuck. You.”

“Yeah, well, fuck you too.”

“I hate you.”

“I love you too, buddy.”

.

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 **Chris:** _Paaaaaarty Boy._

 **Chris:** _U down for this weekend?_

 **Chris:** _Got a bunch of new party favors_

 **Chris:** _Some rly good shit_

 **Chris:** _hello?_

 **Chris:** _Are u ignoring me? Ur missing school over this shit?_

 **Chris:** _Come on don’t be like that_

 **Chris:** _Are u upset about the other day or something?_

 **Chris:** _Bc your dick didn’t seem upset_

 **Chris:** _Whatever._

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 **Eva:** _You coming to C’s party’ this weekend?_

 **Eva:** _It’s gonna be fucking insane_

 **Eva:** _Isak?_

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.

The problem with escaping was that Isak always had to come back down to reality. And when he did - he came crashing back ten times harder than he left.

The numbness and freedom slowly begins to fade away until he’s left with nothing. Until _he is_ nothing - feeling even more naked and vulnerable than he ever had. Each escape takes something from him - a little more each and every time. A thin layer of his mind being scraped away, a little piece of his heart folding itself into a neat little package to remained unopened.

Jonas has walked him through this process a few times before, ever since Isak started partying a little harder than usual. He has to go through this process - the come down. It wasn’t something Isak was proud of and it wasn’t something they talked about. Jonas would wait it out - making sure Isak stayed hydrated and that he changed the sheets every time Isak sweat right through them. He would nag him with questions about food and Lea and school and being one hundred percent sure he didn’t need help stopping. He would take Isak’s harsh words and ignore his swears and cries and then when it was time he would push Isak back into reality - no patience or mercy.

The fabric hits Isak’s face lightly as his eyes blink slowly open. One of Jonas’ freshly washed T-shirts.

“The fuck?” He startles.

His mouth is dry and stale and his mind is foggy. He blinks rapidly, trying to focus on the world around him, but the lights are too bright and the voice is way too loud.

“Time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” Jonas greets his best friend too cheerily “Time to stop hiding from the world and go to school before you’re forced to drop out and become a bag lady.”

“Fuck off, Mom.” Isak groans, rolling over further into the blankets, trying his hardest to disappear completely into the bed.

“Sadly, I can’t. I’m your friend and I...care or whatever. So...up you go!”

And then suddenly Isak’s body is colliding with the floor - he tumbles against the hardwood in a pile of flailing limbs as he tries to hold onto the bed beneath him.

“What the fuck, Jonas!”

“Hey, I tried to wake you up the nice way,” Jonas laughs, peeking over the bed to where Isak lays - bed head still in place and sleep still in his eyes. “You never seem to want to do things the easy way. We leave in forty minutes and you reek. Get in the shower. Let’s go!”  

Isak lets out a long, tired sigh as his eyes begin to fully adjust to the sunlight streaming through the windows - mellow and warm on his skin.

Jonas smiles widely at his friend, messy curls falling forward, a glint in his eyes that isn’t entirely happy.

Isak can’t fight his words. He hasn’t showered in a few days and he can smell just how ripe he his.

“And don’t use up all the hot water, dickweed.” Jonas calls over his shoulder as he moves to his dresser.

At that, Isak can’t help the small smile that touches his face. He really doesn’t deserve Jonas as a friend. And the older boy has no idea just how much Isak doesn’t deserve him. He has no idea how much he _shouldn’t_ care about Isak.

Sometimes Isak wished that he had the strength to tell him, to let him go. To stop using Jonas as a safety blanket. Someone who would always be there for him no matter how badly he fucked up. Jonas would be there to take Isak and hide him away in the safely of his room - wrapping him in warmth and love.

He wished that he could tell Jonas to just leave.

But he’s selfish, and he needs Jonas. So, he let his friend remain blind to the situation and just how uneven and unfair it was.

“Go!” Jonas yells exasperatedly “Shower!”

So, Isak gets up and takes a shower and gets dressed despite his still too-sore muscles and too-weak mind.

The bruises on his neck are almost completely gone now - easily passable as fading hickeys.

Jonas’ eyes lingered on them when Isak first came to him in the middle of the night. His eyes were understanding and calm and he didn’t say anything. Just hugged his friend, made him some hot cocoa, and put him to bed.

Now, Isak stands at the kitchen counter - tired and sluggish - his eyelids heavy with the need for more sleep. Isak pours some milk into his coffee, mixing and watching the rich dark color turn light. He brings the mug up to his nose and inhales deeply. The smell of coffee has always calmed and comforted him. The warmth fills his body and makes him shiver slightly.  

His mind is slow as it catches up to the feel of his body - the heaviness and the steady, dull pain. It’s even slower as it tries to catch up with the memories of the past few days.

He doesn’t think about how he let his guard down. He doesn’t think about how much he regrets taking Even’s offer that day. He doesn't think about how he stupidly let his weakness show.

And he most definitely doesn't think about the marred skin of Even’s arms and how they made Isak feel like it was okay for him to be weak too. How they made him want to ask questions and get answers. How he wanted to trace those scars with his fingertips and let himself be told their story.

He doesn’t think about how even after this particularly hard come-down….all Isak wants to do right now is call Chris, let his mind go mad, his body go numb, and escape again.

He doesn’t let his mind wander too far from him this morning though.

His phone vibrates in his pocket as he makes his way to the den, coffee in hand, waiting for Jonas to be ready so they can walk to school.

Isak bites his lip as he sits, scrolling through the texts he’s missed the past few days.

Like with most things - he tackles the easiest first - leaving the rest for later.

 **Isak:** _Hey sis_

 **Lea:** _Hey Issy_

Isak smiles fondly at the nickname.

 **Isak:** _Sorry for the disappearing act_

 **Lea:** _It’s okay._

 **Lea:** _I miss you_

 **Isak:** _I miss you too. Just needed a break from everything. How’s Pappa been?_

 **Lea:** _The same. Drunk and stupid. Hows Jonas been?_

Isak lets out a breathy chuckle. She denies it every time Isak brings it up or teases her about it, but his sister has had a crush on Jonas since she first laid eyes on him.  

 **Isak:** _The same. Smoking too much weed and playing too many video games._

 **Lea:** _Lol. Are you ok though?_

 **Isak:** _I’m fine Lea. It should be me worrying about you._

 **Lea:** _I just know dad hurt you again the other day. You never talk to me about this stuff._

 **Isak:** _That’s because there’s nothing to talk about. You don’t need to hear about that bullshit._

 **Lea:** _I thought we shared bullshit._

 **Isak:** _Yeah. But you’re only 14._

 **Lea:** _So? You’re only 17._

 **Lea:** _Just….talk to me more._

Isak stares at his screen for a moment or two - letting the constant heaviness of his heart grow even heavier for a minute.

Isak doesn’t know when this started. Having to pretend even with the people he was closest to.

He rationalized it in his head by telling himself that it was to protect them, but that was bullshit, it was all to protect himself. To keep his secrets safe. To guard the deepest parts of his mind that he never wanted to see the light of day. The parts of his mind that were filled with distorted memories and painful reminders of why he was so broken - broken from the inside out.

Even if his initial intentions _were_ selfish - this was protecting them too.

Isak knew that if he got too close, let them know enough - that they would snag on his ragged broken edges. And just like it did his, it would press meanly against their being, it would break their skin, and they would bleed just the same.

The further Isak sinks into his thoughts, sinks back into reality, the more his skin itches. The more his throat tightens. The more his body begins to crave the escape.

He can already feel his sister’s disappointment as he texts back his reply - no promises for the future. No promises of talking more or being around more or opening up.

Isak isn’t great at keeping promises. Most of all to himself.

 **Isak:** _I love you, Lea._

 **Lea:** _I know, Isak. I love you too._

 **Isak:** _I’ll be home after school_

 **Lea:** _Ok_

“Ready to go?”

Isak looks up to find Jonas standing by the den archway, clumsily trying to put his sneaker on, hopping and wiggling and holding onto the wall for support.

“Yeah,” Isak sighs - taking a few large gulps of his coffee - ignoring how it burns his throat.

He ignores both Chris’ and Eva’s texts.

Then he deletes Even’s completely - pretending not to feel anything about them, pretending they were never there in the first place.

_As ready as I’ll ever be._

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. 

_Isak first met Jonas Vasquez when he was twelve years old._

_It was a sunny summer day - the sun harsh and punishing against Isak’s pale sensitive skin - and like most days, Isak was spending it bored and alone. The neighborhood park was filled with laughing children as the sun shimmer-shined through the clouds - free from school and parents and any kind of care in the world. They wore wide smiles and dirty clothes._

They made it seem so easy, _Isak had thought,_ they made everything seem so easy.

_None of them looked like they had to force any of their laughs or fake any of their words. They didn’t look like they had to think about anything at all but this moment right here, right now. While all Isak could think about was that a few hours from now, when the sun would begin to set, he would be forced to make his way back home._

_Where everything was fake and forced._

_Where he would lay awake for hours and pray that this would be the night that it all stopped._

_Where his cries would be muffled into the dark, where the moon kept all his secrets hidden._

_Now, Isak stood alone at the edge of the park, hands tucked away in his pockets and a deep frown settled on his face._

_When he first catches the other boy’s eyes - he has to do a double take to make sure his own eyes weren’t playing a trick on him - because he could have sworn the other boy was looking directly at Isak himself._

_He had thick dark curls that were just as messy and unruly as Isak’s. His eyebrows were prominent and thick and his eyes seemed….gentle.  And he was just….staring at Isak._

_He was alone too._

_When Isak’s eyes met his again he didn’t look away, and for some reason, neither did Isak._

_And then he was there - right in front of the small blonde._

_His smile was high and his cheeks were chubby and round. He had a small birthmark under his left eye and a small amount of dirt smudged across his chin and nose that didn’t seem to bother him at all._

_His hair fell messily into his eyes but he didn’t bother pushing it away. His clothes were dirty from the day and his jeans were ripped at the knees._

_“Hi!” The boy greeted Isak a little too enthusiastically._

_Isak was confused. No one usually came up to him when he was at the park. He wasn’t dumb. He knew nobody liked him. He was too quiet and sad and weird to have friends. He just came here so he didn’t have to be back at home._

_This boy must be new otherwise there is no way he’d be over here with him._

_“Uhm, hello.”_

_“I’m Jonas!” His smile grows impossibly wider, white teeth sparkling under the sun's rays “I’m new here.”_

_Isak nods, stares blankly, and doesn’t reply._

_Jonas just laughs - not bothered at all._

_“What’s your name?”_

_“Isak…?” He doesn’t mean it to but his name comes out more like a question._

_Jonas’ eyes remain soft as his smile turns more into a smirk._

_“Are you sure?”_

_Isak didn’t know what it was about the boy - maybe it was his kind voice that was both welcoming and overly-confident or his pretty eyes or the way he didn’t seem to be bothered by Isak’s awkwardness at all - but Isak began to relax. He felt his shoulders lose some of the tension that had gathered there and his words seem to begin to come naturally._

_He shrugs and looks down at the ground quickly as a blush fills his cheeks._

_“Yeah,” He kind of chuckles, “I’m sorry I just...I’m not used to people talking to me I guess.”_

_And before Isak even has a chance to regret his brutal honesty - Jonas is rambling again._

_“Me neither!” He laughs “But you looked like you needed a friend and since I’m new I need one too. One plus one. I’m pretty good at math.”_

_Isak let out the first genuine laugh he had in months._

_Jonas was dorky but endearing, lame but sweet._

_He was new and he needed a friend - just like Isak did._

_And the rest was history._

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.

.

The boys stand in the school yard before first bell. Isak bites his nails - bored - as Magnus drones on and on about some girl he wants to bang.

Isak feels bad. He knows he’s a shit friend and he wishes he could be interested in Magnus’ words. He really, really does.

But he can’t stand still - he fidgets with Jonas’s too-big clothes that hang from his body loosely, he shuffles from foot to foot, and bites his already run down nails.

Jonas has asked him about twenty times since they left the house if he’s okay. He rolls his eyes every single time.

He sees Chris across the yard and his stomach drops - so he focuses especially hard on the gravel beneath his dust-dirty shoes.

He’s not ready to deal with him yet. His poorly thought out plan is to just avoid the other boy all day - because he knows exactly how the encounter will go.

Isak will try to be strong but Chris will smile with that same truly dangerous sparkle in his eyes. He’ll flirt and touch Isak’s skin hotly and whisper softly in his ear. He’ll tell him that he has the escape Isak craves right there in his pocket.

His lips will touch Isak’s ear and his words will make Isak flush hot-red all over and bite his lip and try to push away the lightness he’ll feel in the bottom of his stomach.

And Isak won’t be able to ignore the constant tugging in his mind anymore - the tugging that is demanding more - telling him what he wants, what he needs - that it isn’t here. Demanding something both sweet and bitter but completely mind-numbing all the same.

He won’t be able to ignore the itch at the back of his throat.

Chris knows just how to play on Isak’s weakness and Isak knows just how to let him.

And when he’s close enough for Isak’s thoughts to be clouded with the comforting smell of his body wash and his sickly enticing words - he’ll cave. Just like he always does.

And Isak’s not even completely sure that he doesn’t _want_ to cave but he definitely tries to convince himself that he doesn’t. He thinks about Lea and Jonas and his Mamma. He tries to focus on anything but the nagging itch.

It makes everything worse after it makes it better. The drugs. The parties. The sex. It makes Isak weak and careless and stupid. But that doesn’t mean he craves it any less.

He pulls his hood up further over his unbrushed hair, shivers, and ignores the feeling of Jonas’ worried eyes on him.

When he glances up again, it’s just his luck, that Chris is nowhere in sight, but his eyes lock instantly on blue ones staring right back.

Even sits coolly across the way, a few friends scattered around him. He looks tired today - his hair messy and soft seeming. His eyes sleep-drooped still. He’s staring back at Isak softly - almost fondly as he tilts his head to the side.

He doesn’t back down from the stare today, just like the day in the cafeteria. Even’s eyes dance with waves of emotions - Isak not able to pick just one out or pin one down. The stare is different this time though. A layer of unspoken words and unaddressed thoughts swirl in the air between the boys. Something heavier and thicker and loaded with expectations. Expectations he knows he won’t be able to reach - won’t want to reach.

The feeling makes Isak’s bones shake under its smothering pressure.

Isak swallows thickly as Even continues to stare back - he sits a little straighter and his eyes begin to squint - as if he’s thinking the same thing Isak is. Like this is too much for him too.

Just being around Even makes Isak uneasy. There in Even’s apartment, Isak knows what he was feeling, under all the uneasiness and anxiousness and hesitance, Isak was feeling excited. Being around Even made him _excited_. But a different kind of excited. Not the kind of excited that he’s used to. Not the kind of excited he feels when he’s around Chris, or when he knows escape is right around the corner. This was a new kind of excited. A hopeful kind of excited. It scared the shit out of Isak. He wasn’t supposed to feel this type of excited. This type of disgusting excitement was supposed to be tucked neatly away in his mind, like it always was.

But Even and his fucking clear beautiful eyes and just right words and kind smile. They made Isak weaker than usual.

And now - Isak can’t look at those crystal blue eyes the same way anymore.

He’s seen behind them - even if it had been just the smallest amount. He peeled back a piece of Even that day in the steadiness of his small, quiet apartment. He’d seen a piece of him that he didn’t ask to see.

And he was angry.

_So fucking angry._

He felt the heat of the anger pool in the pit of his stomach, rage in the back of his mind, before spreading across his skin hotly.

This was a feeling he knew well.

Anger. Frustration.

His knees locked and his hands began to shake, so he tightens them on the straps of his backpack - knuckles going white.

He was mad at Even for showing him that piece of himself, like he wanted Isak to know - like he cared what he thought, like he trusted Isak with some kind of piece of him. It was a ridiculously stupid thing to do and Isak was _so fucking angry_ at him.

He lets his gaze turn into a glare as Even’s turns questioning.

Rationally, Isak knew he didn’t really have any right to be angry. Even didn’t do anything wrong. It was Isak that was wrong - born backwards and upsidedown. Born wrong. It was Isak that was so fucked up that his body seemed to physically reject any kind of emotional connection with another human being.

Isak was used to the simple nothingness of his relationships by now. They were simple and surface level and didn’t require much effort. Isak could fake his way through most of them. He could pretend his way through the day just fine.

And Even wanted to come along and fuck that all up.

No, it wasn’t Even’s fault that Isak felt these things.

But if Isak didn’t have anyone else to blame then the only one he could blame was himself.

And his mind was already being weighed down with so much self-hatred, self-doubt, self-pity - he didn’t think it could take anymore.

“Isak?”

“Hmm,” Isak moves his eyes back over to his friends - who are all staring at him expectantly.

“I said are you okay?” Jonas asks just the wrong thing at the exact wrong time. He raises his eyebrows as he waits for an answer.

Isak wants to scream. He wants to curse and cry and throw things and break anything he can get his hands on.

He wants to destroy.

He wants to run.

“I’m fucking fine” Isak spits out angrily “Jesus. Get off my back, man.”

Jonas’ eyes widen at his friend’s sudden hostility.

“Woah,” Mahdi laughs awkwardly - eyes moving hesitantly between his two friends “Chill, man. You just seem wound up is all. It was just a question.”

Isak’s eyes linger on Jonas’ - not even bothering to move to Mahdi as he speaks.

He glares and Jonas understands. Well, he doesn’t _really_ understand, never will fully understand - but he gets that this is part of the process. The come down.

Jonas just nods, calmly, like he always does, “It’s alright.” He says evenly.

Isak doesn’t nod back in understanding. He doesn’t thank him or appreciate him like he should.

Fuck him and his placid attitude. Fuck him and his understanding words. Fuck him for not knowing just how deeply fucked up Isak is. Fuck him for caring and trying. Fuck him for not having these thoughts and feelings too.

“Fuck you,” Isak laughs bitterly, pushing away angry tears that dare to pool behind his eyes.

And with that, he turns, and heads towards the building with shaking knees and grinding teeth - no where near ready for the rest of the day.

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.

.

Isak manages to keep his mind blank for most of the day. He lets his anger settle and turn into blankness. Simple nothingness.

He walks the halls of faceless people without saying a word. He bumps into people and doesn’t apologize. He doesn’t lift his head when teachers call on him. He just exists here in these moments. Motions, no feelings.

It isn’t until he walks into his biology class that he’s forced to think about the world around him, his reality.

As soon as he spots Sana already sitting at their lab table, books spread out in front of her, jotting notes quickly - his body fills with dread and he wavers - emotion rushing back in just as quickly as it left him.

Even had to have told her something about the other day. He had to tell her about Isak and the conversation and the bruises and the chink in the armor that Isak wore constantly. They were best friends. He can’t count how many times that Jonas told him stories of weird or humorous or downright bizarre shit he experienced with people - serious or off-handedly. It was natural to share things with friends you were close to. Even told Sana. He had to of.

He doesn’t even realize he’s just standing there and staring cowardly until someone bumps into his back, “excuse me are you going to, like move?” a nasally voice asks from behind him.

He clears his throat, swallows thickly, and begins to move Sana’s way.

When he sits beside her, dropping his bag carelessly on the floor next to him - it’s awkward. He’s stiff and anxious. She doesn’t glance up or greet him with a nod like she usually does. She’s so busy scribbling away that he doesn’t even think she notices him sit down.

Nothing has even happened and yet Isak feels so fragile and vulnerable here. At the simple idea of being exposed in any way.

He fidgets quietly beside her, minutes seem to pass like hours, until Sana finally glances up with extremely clear and focused eyes. She just stares for a moment. Isak’s eyes move around the room, trying to find anything to look at beside her. She doesn’t speak and the silence makes Isak’s spine straighten and his chest go cold. Her stare is...unnerving.

But then she just...groans, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling and shaking her head.

“Not you too,” She huffs out, like she’s already exhausted with the conversation that hasn’t happened yet.

“Huh?”

“You have the same look that Even’s had all morning.” She sighs, continuing her note taking.

Isak sits even straighter at the mention of the other boy. He begins to scratch the fabric of the jeans he borrowed from Jonas, his eyes suddenly focused solely on the girl beside him, his heart in his throat - making it hard for him to swallow.

“What are you talking about?” He asks - his voice quiet but rough.

Sana pauses for a moment - her pen stopping mid sentence as she inhales deeply in frustration. She mutters something lowly to herself that Isak can’t quite make out.

She lets out a long drawn-out sigh before turning to her biology partner.

Her eyes fierce but fed-up. A stare that makes Isak shrink back just slightly.

“Don’t worry, Isak.” She tells him simply “Whatever went down between you two. Whatever your secrets are. He’s keeping them. He’s barely said two words to me this morning and I know Even. He’s obviously keeping something from me. Which I don’t appreciate by the way.”

Isak’s response is immediate and one of pure reaction - his body goes rigid and his words are defensive, “What are you talking about?” He repeats again “Nothing went down. I don’t know the fucking guy. There’s nothing to not tell.”

He pushes back the feeling of want that is buried under the surface of his words and thoughts. He wants to ask her what she means by “the same look”. He wants to ask what he said exactly. He wants to ask why Even had to look at him with that fucking look that made him want to believe that everything could be okay.

He doesn’t ask.

Sana rolls her eyes again and nods, “Sure. Whatever. I don’t care anyway. Just try to stay awake today, okay?” She tosses one last sarcastic smirk Isak’s way before turning back to her work.

Before Isak can push the subject any further, his phone vibrates loudly from it’s place on the table.

“And put that shit away,” Sana snaps “Class starts in five minutes.”

It’s Isak’s turn to roll his eyes as he grabs his phone, “Nerd.”

Isak’s stomach drops when he sees who the new notification is from.

He tries to settle himself with a deep breath before he opens the message.

 **Pappa:** _Isak, I need you to come home after school._  

He lets out a disbelieving chuckle before he replies. He hasn’t spoken to his father since the night he gave him these fucking bruises.

 **Isak:** _fuck you._

 **Pappa:** _Isak, this is serious._

 **Isak:** _yeah seriously fuck you_

 **Pappa:** _Stop being childish. We had a fight and now it’s over. Grow up._

 **Isak:** _a fight? you tried to choke me to death._

 **Pappa:** _Don’t be dramatic. Also, I apologized._

 **Isak:** _no you didn’t_

 **Pappa:** _Well, I’m sorry. All better now?_

 **Isak:** _FUCK. YOU._

 **Pappa:** _You need to come home. It’s about Mamma._

 **Isak:** _what about her?_

 **Pappa:** _Come home after school and find out._

 **Isak:** _fine. whatever._

As the bell rings, signaling the beginning of class, Isak grabs his bag and stands - his head feeling light and his anger returning full force.

“Where are you going?” He hears Sana call after him as he makes his way out of the classroom.

He has no idea where he’s going.

He never does.

.

.

.

He rushes through the empty halls - blood pumping, heart racing, breathing too quickly.

He hated days like this - days where his blood ran hot and he was filled with nothing but frustration and he couldn’t control anything running through his mind. He hated how the water that pooled beneath his eyes was unstoppable.

He hated that his dad was a piece of shit that didn’t care about him and more than that -  he hated that he _wanted_ his dad to care. It didn’t matter that he was a violent alcoholic piece of shit - he was still Isak’s dad. And knowing that he didn’t care enough about him to truly apologize, to not hurt him in the first place, to pretend nothing happened before this and that everything was okay. To act like Isak was the crazy one. That Isak was the one who was pathetic and dumb and wrong. To shut Isak out and pretend he was nothing more than an inconvenience - a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

It hurt.

It hurt so fucking much - that hurt pressing against his lungs, making it hard for him to breath as he begins to move ever faster until he is practically running through the halls.

He crashes into the bathroom as quickly as he can - accidental tears begin to finally spill from his eyes and he can taste the salty sadness on his lips. The flickering florescent lights above are too harsh and crude and  he feels his face burn hot as he clenches his teeth tightly together - trying to hold in the scream that is threatening to erupt.

He doesn’t know what to do with himself. He has no way to let this feeling out. No way of letting this bubbling, building, unbelievably smothering frustration go. It took over every single part of his body, limb by limb, cell by cell, until it swallowed him whole, until it became him completely.

His whole body shakes with the emotions coursing through his small, fragile frame. He clenches his fists tightly until he feels his nails begin to pierce the skin of his palm - enjoying the tiniest amount of blood that begins to pool there and how it releases some of the tension building inside of him.

He leans back heavily against the door and lets out a deep sigh, letting his belongings drop to the floor, his body shuddering with the breath. He couldn’t quite catch his breath just right - it was erratic and short.

He lets himself be surrounded by the silence for a moment - trying to control his breathing and settle his mind. He wishes he could just disappear.

He tries to do what he normally would. He tries to pretend that he’s not angry or sad or alone or trapped here in this shitty version of his reality.

Sometimes, Isak is so good at pretending that he can even pretend that he doesn’t hate himself.

But not this time. This time it’s too much - filling him up until he thinks he’s going to spill over.

Suddenly, Isak hears a throat being cleared from across the room - and just his grand luck - as his eyes fly suddenly open, there stands Even. Looking, uncomfortable for interrupting Isak’s private moment.

Uncomfortable but charming and handsome as ever.

Isak’s eyes run over the boy’s features for what seems like the millionth time for the past few days- his chest continuing to heave. Even’s eyes show a look of concern that shouldn’t be there. His actions are hesitant as he slips his hands into the front pockets of his jean jacket, clearing his throat before moving forward a step.

“Isak, are you...are you okay?” He asks, his voice small sounding as if he was trying not to scare Isak away at the sound. He already knows the answer to the question but he asks anyway. Again, like he fucking cares.

Isak remembers what he felt in the older boy’s apartment - so safe and calm. So okay.

Until Even ruined it.

He wipes his hot tears away roughly with the back of his hand.

He remembers the new kind of hopeful excitement.

Even seems so sweet and caring and open and it all makes Isak feel things. Things he shouldn’t. And he absolutely _hates_ Even for it.

In this moment, he truly hates Even most of all.

How could Even have those scars and still be okay? How could he have those scars and still smile so wide and laugh so loudly and try to get to know Isak. 

Fuck him too.

Isak barely knew the boy, has just seen him in tiny glimpses, but Even was beautiful to Isak - in so many ways - and Isak felt like destroying something beautiful.

“I’m fucking fine,” Isak says back roughly, pushing off the door and moving towards the sinks.

He feels like there is a fire beginning to build inside of his chest. He flicks one of the faucets on, running the cold water over his wrists, hoping to calm the heat within him - cool him down.

Sweat clings to his body everywhere. He scratches his nose. He feels his heartbeat everywhere - from it’s firm wild beating in his chest to the light thrumming in his ears and at his fingertips.

“You don’t look fine,” Even says quietly, still shuffling from foot to foot a bit awkwardly behind him. “You look like you’re on the verge of a panic attack.”

Isak lets out a bitter snort, out of breath, not letting himself look up at the other boy, “You learn that shit in therapy?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Good for you. I’m fucking fine.”

“Isak.” He says Isak’s name like an old friend would.

The soft mild tone makes Isak’s eye lift. Green meets blue in the mirror. Even’s expression is so open and welcoming. _Isak could tell him anything and it would be okay with Even_. That’s what he makes Isak feel.

His eyes make Isak’s stomach flip - so pure and soft. They make his breathing begin to calm. They make his body cool more than the water ever could.

Isak grinds his teeth together. This shouldn’t be happening. Even needs to leave. He shouldn’t want to help Isak. He can’t.

He jerks his chin towards Even’s arms, trying to get the focus off of himself, “What happened to you?” He asks harshly, “What fucked you up so bad that you did that?”

Even is quiet for a moment. Isak watches as his adam’s apple bobs and his gaze wavers for a split second. But he doesn’t look hurt or offended. Just...thoughtful. His cheeks are stained with a mild red color and his lips look cold and chapped. But beautiful and soft.

Isak turns off the tap so they’re just left with the buzzing silence around them. Isak has never heard a silence so loud.

“I did,” Even finally replies - eyes firm and unwavering on Isak’s “What about you?” He gestures to the blonde’s fading bruises.

“Same.” Isak answers right away “I did.”

Even shakes his head gently, “No, Isak,” He says, like he has all the answers, like he could even begin to know Isak or his life “Those bruises weren’t because of you. Someone hurt you.”

Even’s words hit Isak hard - like a rough punch to the gut. He feels so exposed under his stare - angry and feeble.

And he is so fucking sick of feeling this way. This constant helplessness - not only to everyone around him but to himself, his own mind. This constant pain that Isak only knows one way to dull. This ache inside his body calling out for answers and solutions that he doesn’t have. He’s too frail and small to handle it. He just wants it to stop.

He wants to push it all away. He wants someone to feel the same way he does. He wants someone to see and understand why he’s this way. He wants someone to hurt like he does.

He wants to take it out on Even because of his sweetness and openness. Because of his breathtaking eyes and caring, true, thoughtful words. Because of the way he makes Isak’s stomach flip and his heart flutter. Because he makes Isak feel these things. Things like hope. Things he knows he can never have. A happy life. A normal mind. A mended heart. To not have this sickness inside of him, always burning beneath the surface. He makes Isak’s mind flash with pictures of how things could be.

And he barely knew a goddamn thing him.

And what made Isak most angry was that maybe he _could_ have those things - all those wonderful and beautiful things he doesn’t dare let himself dream of. Maybe he could have them  if he tried harder. But he was so fucking weak. He didn’t try harder. He couldn’t.

Isak’s words are mean, burning his tongue as he speaks them, “Well, yeah. At least I didn’t have a choice in what happened to me. You chose to do _that_ shit. What’s your fucking excuse? Can therapy fucking cure crazy?”

Isak can’t bring himself to regret his words yet - he know he will eventually. The regret and guilt will slowly but surely creep it’s way into him. But he’s too worked up right now to feel anything but this thick hot anger.

His words hang in the air - crude and unforgiving.

He watches as Even’s face fall - all traces of sympathy and care gone.

Hurt flashes behind Even’s eyes, Isak catches it, even though Even tries to cover it up. Isak invented the act of hiding hurt behind dull eyes. Even can’t hide it from him.

Even stays in place for a second - he continues to look on - maybe hoping Isak will quickly realize his error, that he’ll apologize, that he’ll be a decent person.

Isak just raises his eyebrows in a challenge.

Isak isn’t a decent person. Not in this moment. Not right now.

So, Even just nods - almost as if he’s resigned. He tried, he failed, and he was giving up. Better he figure out how horrible Isak was sooner than later anyway.

Isak lets out a breath before slumping against the sink in front of him. He grips the edge of the porcelain so tightly that his knuckles turn white and his wrists begin to ache.

He almost feels as if he was on autopilot - that whole encounter just his body and mind’s natural reaction.

His body vibrates under the weight of it all - his breathing low and heavy.

He doesn’t give himself a chance to think about the encounter or the rest of the day or what's going to happen next.

Because he suddenly remembers something.

He remembers the little white baggie in his dresser drawer at home.

And easy out.

Safe. Uncomplicated. Completely his.

An escape.

He doesn’t think of anything else at all.

His mouth is already watering as he makes his decision. His heart speeds up and his nose tingles.

He quickly gathers his belongings and walks out the door, exiting the school, and not looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Feelings? Your feedback motivates me to keep this story going :)


	6. Let Me In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I just want to, again, thank everyone giving this fic a chance :) It means the world to me. & a special thank you to everyone who is leaving me comments and feedback. You have no idea how much it motivates me!
> 
> As always, please over look editing errors. I suck.
> 
> ...
> 
> ALSO, just a quick note before you read...
> 
> I've already addressed this but I'd like to mention it again because I begin to bring up the topic more in this chapter and I know it can be sensitive to some people. ANYTHING dealing with Even's feelings towards or during or centering around his Bipolar Disorder are based off of my PERSONAL EXPERIENCE only. I am diagnosed bipolar and have been medicated for a few years now. I am not claiming to know everything about the disorder or have all the answers or diminish anyone else's varying experiences. I'm simply going by what I know about the disorder myself. Everyone's experiences and diagnoses and progress is different and that is totally okay! The comments are always open to tell me about your different experiences too! :) 
> 
> I've also updated the tags if you want to take a quick peek.
> 
> And just bare with me for this chapter and remember that sometimes characters we love do some not so lovable things when they're hurting.
> 
> Other than that...enjoy!

.

 

.

 

.

_“When someone won’t let you in, eventually you stop knocking.”_

......

_“So...you just, like, inhale and hold?” Isak asks uncertainly, eying the unfamiliar substance packed tightly into his friend’s small blue bowl._

_J_ _onas lets out a small chuckle, rolling his eyes at his naive friend._

 _"_ _I still can’t believe you’ve never smoked before, dude” Jonas shakes his head, packing the rest of the weed into the pipe._

 _I_ _sak and Jonas are currently sitting on the floor of Jonas’ room - school books open but long forgotten. His mom ran out to get some groceries for dinner and his dad is working late. It was a school night and they were supposed to be finishing up some homework but Jonas had another idea._

_He was appalled by the fact that his new friend had never tried smoking weed before and once he knew he was determined to change that._

_Isak and Jonas have been attached at the hip ever since that day at the park a few months ago. They pretty much did everything together. They had the same sense of humor and same love for stupid comic books and the same taste in shitty first person shooter video games. Jonas’ mom was funny and sweet and let Isak stay over on school nights when his dad didn’t answer the phone and his mom_ did, _rambling madly about the end of the world until Jonas’ mom nodded in understanding. She new something was up with Isak’s parents. She asked a lot of questions about them but didn’t receive many answers. She would ask until Isak became irritated and uncomfortable and Jonas would snap at his mom to just_ stop it already.

_Isak stayed at Jonas’ as much as he could, every single chance he got - never wanting to return to the darkness and pain of his own house. Jonas’ house was bright and kind. There were family pictures scattered around every room of the home and everyone wore a smile and there were always freshly cut flowers in the kitchen, making everything smell beautiful and clean._

_Isak’s birthday was a few months ago and Jonas said it was shameful that he was thirteen and had never smoked before, hence their current situation._

_Isak scoffs, “Well, excuse me for not being a super cool stoner who smokes in their bedroom and literally just asked their mommy to get them brownie mix while at the store.”_

_Jonas flips Isak off as the boy’s continue to laugh._

_“Fuck off.” Jonas replies, leaning back lazily against the wall behind him “We’re going to have the munchies after we smoke this.”_

_He raises his eyebrows mischievously and brings the bowl to his lips._

_Isak can’t lie - he’s a little nervous._

_It’s not like he’s never wondered about drugs before - he has. He’s just never had the resources to get any, or the friend’s to try them with. Now he did and it was all so new. Not just the drug thing but_ everything _. Having a friend - someone to share with and experience new things with. It was both amazingly comforting and completely terrifying to have someone who walked with him through the school halls every day and kept the taunting bullies away. Someone who patted his back and let him know he wasn’t alone. Someone who laughed_ at _him and_ with _him all the same._

_Jonas was Isak’s very first true friend._

_He didn’t know it was possible to feel this warm inside._

_Isak watches as his friend licks his lips before he wraps them tightly around the end of the pipe - his movements are confident and easy and he flicks the lighter on._

_Isak’s stomach feels sort of funny as he watches the actions unfold in front of him. Sometimes he gets this weird unsettled feeling in the pit on his stomach when he’s around Jonas._

_He watches as the brunette brings the lighter to the green and begins to automatically inhale steadily. His chest stretches with his breath and stays like that even as he pulls the glass from his lips. Smoke pours lightly from his nose as his eyes remain steadily on the green ones before him - wide and curious and captivated._

_When he exhales it’s smooth and well-practiced._

_The smell is musky and new to Isak, not unpleasant in the slightest._

_His heart is beating a little more quickly than usual._

_Jonas’ eyes flutter as he lets out a small laugh, “Man, this is some good shit.”_

_Isak notices how long and thick and pretty his eyelashes are as they skim the top of his high round cheeks._

_“See?” Jonas says simply “Easy.”_

_Isak nods, swallows thickly, trying not to let his nerves show._

_But Jonas could always read Isak like a book._

_“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Jonas tells his friend - his voice genuine and full of care. He shrugs, letting Isak know it’s not a big deal “I just only joking when I said you_ had _to, obviously.”_

_“I want to.” Isak replies quickly. He wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t a baby. He could do it._

_He always found himself wanting to do the things that Jonas did. It’s not as if Jonas pressured him to do anything he didn’t want to. Isak just wanted to show him he could. He wanted to be confident and cool like Jonas. He wanted to impress him. He wanted to show himself that he was just like everyone else. He was a normal teenage boy with normal teenage boy wants and needs and actions._

_He reached out expectantly and let Jonas place the pipe in his palm._

_His hands shook as he placed it to his lips - he could feel the spit that Jonas left there on his mouth but it didn’t bother him at all._

_His first hit was harsh and rough and burned his throat sharply._

_Jonas laughed as Isak coughed and coughed and coughed._

_But then his laugh turned into a simple smirk before taking everything from his friend’s hands and scooting closer to him. His nose almost touched the brunette’s, he was so close, and Isak’s heart fluttered. His breath smelled like the weed. He held the bowl to Isak’s lips this time and took the lead for him. He flicked the lighter and his soft eyes met Isak’s._

_Isak’s stomach quivered as Jonas’ pierced through his._

_“Now, inhale” Jonas tells him quietly._

_The second time was much smoother and it wasn’t long before the boy’s smoked the entire bowl._

_The night was filled with laughs and brownies and lingering stares and much more laughter. Isak’s head was light and his heart was so open._

_He didn’t think about anything except the way Jonas’ eyes crinkled when he laughed or how his cheeks turned red when he concentrated really hard on the video game they were playing or how his lips looked soft every time he bit them._

_They fell asleep side by side that night and Isak had never felt safer._

_Isak’s first taste of escaping had been simple and innocent and accidental._

_If little thirteen year old Jonas could see Isak now, he probably would have flushed those drugs right down the toilet and never spoken of it again. And Isak probably would have let him._

.

.

.

The first sniff is always Isak’s favorite.

He loves the ritual and process of it all - laying out the straight, neat little white lines on the cool, smooth surface - so delicate yet powerful looking. He loves the sound of the sharp razor scraping against glass over and over while his anticipation grows, his heart beginning to pump harder and faster - his hands shaking ever so slightly, his lips trembling with excitement.

The air around him is always so heavy and quiet when he’s doing this, even if he’s surrounded by noise. He’s in his own little private bubble here.  

He sits on his bed, legs crossed and straw in hand, everything ready for him.

The house is calm and quiet and lifeless again.

When he entered the house he immediately heard the loud snores pouring from his mother’s room and was hit with a wave of relief. She was down again and wouldn’t be a bother.

He quickly made his way to his room and tossed everything onto the floor, his body still worked up and practically vibrating - getting what he needed and getting ready to get lost.

He didn’t think about anything else but this. All he could think about was the rush he was about to feel. The freedom and bliss. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else made sense.

He touches the little plastic straw to the edge of his first line, his eyes wide and focused, before he places his nose at the other end and inhales deeply. The burn is harsh but so, so sweet as the drugs flow through his nostril.

Tingles spread through his entire body - from head to toe - the room spinning around him.

Isak doesn’t love many things in this world. But he loves this.

There is nothing like the first line. When it rushes through him fast and furious - taking over every part of his body - light and free. When it surrounds him completely so he forgets where he is, and who he is and why everything is so wrong. When every single thing in the universe suddenly becomes _right_.

When his blood rushes hot and cold at the same time. When his mind is both blank but filled with every thought and emotion he could ever imagine.

His eyes fall closed as he relishes in this delightful feeling. A feeling he can’t get anywhere else in the world.

A smile lingers softly on his lips as he finishes the rest of the lines - quickly and efficiently.

He falls back gracelessly - his head bouncing against the soft, plush pillows beneath him. Colors swirl behind his eyes so beautifully as the drugs already begin to take effect.

As they course through his system he begins to feel it - the switch. The switch from reality to the escape. There isn’t ever one moment Isak can pin down when everything changes completely. It happens gradually, the gears in his mind shifting slowly but steadily, his body becoming someone else’s with each breath he takes - constant and solid, but erratic - his chest rising and falling unevenly. A different Isak. A new and better Isak.

The broken pieces of his mind begin to shift and rattle and slowing start to glue themselves back together, his body and mind mending. And he knows that he can be anyone now. Do anything. He’s fucking invincible.

Nothing but this matters.

_Nothing._

_Nothing._

_Nothing._

Not the past, not the present, not the future.

Not his crazy mom who isn’t getting the help she needs.

Not his drunk dad that leaves him with bruised skin and open wounds.

Not his hurt friend who Isak seems to take advantage of again and again.

Not his obvious problems that he likes to ignore.

Not the smothered cries for help of a terrified eleven-year-old him.

Not the hurt expression of Even’s beautiful bright eyes that was nobody’s fault but his own.

 _Nothing_.

He doesn’t even have to think when he grabs his phone. There’s no guilt or worry or hesitation. There’s no need for it.

Everything is okay.

He types quickly and carelessly.

 **Isak:** _Where are you?_

 **Chris:** _OH! He speaks. I’m in english class. Boring._

 **Isak:** _Ditch. Come get me at my house._

 **Chris:** _I like it when u play the bad boy._

 **Isak:** _I want you to fuck me._

 **Chris:** _I’m on my way._

.

.

.

Chris is behind him, hands settled on his hips - gripping too tightly. But Isak barely registers the pain there. All he can focus on is the pleasure coursing through his entire body, filling up his entire being.

Chris’ hips slam roughly into his again and again, causing his body to jerk forward with every movement and his hands to clench into fists around the bed sheets beneath him, balling the fabric between his sweaty fingers. His face pushes into the pillow - slightly cooling his heated skin.

He hears Chris’ grunts and groans being punched out loudly with every one of his thrusts and Isak matches the noises with his own stifled moans.  

The air around them is hot and thick and filled with the smell of sex.

His stomach burns fire-hot and his thighs tremble when Chris wraps a large, strong hand around his dick.

And then he’s biting the pillow, trying to hide his scream as his orgasm rushes through him and steals the air from his lungs - Chris follows right behind him.

He doesn’t move when he feels Chris pull out and roll of off him - tossing the condom in the trash beside his bed.

Isak’s entire body is useless - sagging against the mattress and still filled with tingles. Every single part of him burns hot and his limbs feel like jello.

He blinks slowly over at Chris, who lays beside him lazily, looking like he feels the same way Isak does.

The boy beside him really is beautiful - his big brown eyes look happy and satisfied. His smile is smug and dazzling and so very alluring. His cheeks post-orgasm-flushed.

Isak hates him for it.

His head rolls towards the blonde.

“See?” Chris whispers lowly. He’s close enough that his hot, fresh breath touches Isak’s lips. There’s a glint in his eyes that would normally alarm Isak if he could feel anything at all right now. “I told you I’d get you back into bed.”

Isak’s eyes fall shut.

“Fuck you,” He replies without much venom.

Chris chuckles and moves a piece of hair away from Isak’s sweat slicked forehead.

“You just did, Party Boy.”

.

“So, does this mean you’re gonna come to my party this weekend?” Chris asks, continuing to cut the drugs laid out on the table in front of him.

They’ve made their way to Chris’ living room. Isak paces impatiently back and forth, arms folded across his chest -  in front of where Chris is hunched over the coffee table - getting what they need ready.

Isak’s high is fading - it’s been a few hours and he already feels his mind beginning to settle back into the real word. He’s trying his hardest to keep it out though. To keep his mind anywhere else. To keep it here, with Chris, with the bitter freedom laid out for him.

Isak shrugs, not realizing that Chris isn’t looking at him until he _does_ look up with questioning eyes.

Isak shrugs again, “I don’t know, man. Maybe.” He sighs, practically wearing a hole in the floor now - his eyes not moving from the drugs. “Can you just...hurry?” He huffs.

Chris’ eyes roll before he gets back to work.

“Jesus,” He laughs lightly “Where’s the fucking fire?”

Isak doesn’t bother answering him.

He scratches the non-existent itch on his nose and rubs away the newly forming goosebumps that begin to rise on his arms. He shivers even as his body burns hot.

“Anyway,” Chris continues, completely oblivious to Isak’s struggles, “You should totally come Saturday. My guy’s coming with some good shit. Said it’s the best X he’s ever had. Stronger than what we did the other day.”

“Okay,” Isak answers even though Chris’ words fell on deaf ears.

Chris looks up - lips smirking and eyes sparkling.

“You know,” He says - his voice teasing “You should quit this whole act where you disappear for a few days and pretend that I don’t have what you need. This back and forth is getting a little old, don’t you think? Much more fun when you just give into the inevitable.”

Isak doesn’t answer because then Chris reaches out - handing the small straw to him.

He drops to his knees and snorts five lines and watches as his shaking hands steady.

He smiles widely.

He rests his forehead against the hard wood of the table after he’s finished - trying to settle his spinning mind. The floor feels like it’s dropped from beneath him.

“Yeah,” he eventually answers, his voice just a whisper, but Chris still hears, “Yeah, much more fun this way.”  

.

.

.

“Just tell me what he did so I can kick his ass already.” Sana sighs tiredly - her eyes focused intently on the top of her best friend’s head as he keeps his gaze on the book in front of him.

Even’s been trying to tell her for hours now that nothings wrong. He’s not upset. Isak didn’t do anything. But Sana’s always been able to see through his weak lies. Sometimes Even feels like Sana knows him better than he knows himself.

Even lets out a quiet sigh, finally looking up from his school book at his worried best friend.

They’re currently sitting at Even’s kitchen table finishing up some homework.

“You have officially reached the point of annoying, Sana” Even tells her seriously.

He didn’t want to tell her what happened. He didn’t want to talk about it, he didn’t want to think about it, he wanted to act like everything was fine.

Which it _was,_ really.

Sure, Isak’s words hurt. They really, _really_ hurt. Even had been called crazy, insane, psychotic - a million times by a million different people - but never had it sounded so harsh or cruel than it did coming from Isak’s lips.

But Even understood the words. He pushed Isak too far in the bathroom.

He could see it in the younger boy’s eyes. His pain and hurt and sadness resting there - just begging to come out. He thought he could be some kind of outlet for him. That if Even used kind words and soft expressions to ease the boy into it that maybe Isak could see that he could trust Even, talk to him.

But Isak didn’t know Even and in return Even didn’t know much of anything about Isak.

He could practically feel the tension radiating from the boy today in the bathroom. He was so wound up, so lost.

He thought maybe this would be his chance to help find him.

Really, Even just wanted to help.

But looking back on it now, Even knew he shouldn’t have brought up the bruises again, even if Isak brought up his scars.

Even had dealt with the majority of his demons - session after session - long and tiring and brutal. He had talked about his shit and worked most of it out. Yeah, he still had a few things he wasn’t completely over or comfortable with but for the most part - Even was at peace with his mind now, as much as he could be. He was healthy and happy and taking his meds. He was always going to be a work-in-progress. Everyone was. He was going to have moments where he struggled to remain even or his meds needed to be adjusted or he had to take long walks in the middle of the night because he couldn’t sleep.

But it was okay because Even could handle it.

Even if they hurt - Even could handle Isak’s words - because he was stronger now. He was better.

Sana was right  - Isak was still so very fragile.

Even didn’t need the second year to say anything to spot that that fact.  Isak was fragile and scared and alone. And it made Even’s heart ache for him.

He lets out another sigh when Sana gives him that _look_. That look that tells you that she knows more than you do. That she’s smarter and wiser and all knowing.

She doesn’t say anything - just stares back intently - her darkly stained lips formed into a hard line, her eyes piercing strongly through her heavy eye makeup.

“He just….” Even eventually relents “I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. He’s too fragile. I should be careful, back off or whatever.”

Even tries to make his words casual as he waves a hand dismissively - trying to brush off the topic quickly.

Sana, however, has other ideas, “Okay, good.” She agrees “But what did he _do_?”

He can see she’s obviously not going to let this go.

“He called me crazy.” Even decides to just lay it all out on the table - relenting fully.

“ _He what?_ ”

“I think...I think I pushed him too far or something,” Even sighs, staring intently down at his school book, the words blurring together “He’s got...shit, don’t tell anyone, alright? But he’s got, like, bruises on his neck.”

“What? Like hickeys?”

“No, no,” Even shakes his head, frustrated. He feels like shit for telling Isak’s secret, but he also doesn’t know what else to do with it. He trusts Sana. And he needs to get this off his chest.

If there was one thing Even learned in therapy, something that stuck the hardest in his mind, it was that everything was harder alone.

“Not hickeys. They looked like the outline of someone’s hand. Someone hurt him, choked him...I guess. I brought it up and he got defensive.” Even ends his sentence with a sigh - not really knowing what else to say.

When Sana is silent for a beat too long, he finally looks up, his eyes meeting her’s hesitantly.

Her brows are scrunched tightly together, “But…” She starts “He called you crazy? Does he know you’re bipolar or something?”

Even shakes his head, beginning to tap the end of his pen against the table rapidly, trying to get rid of some of his sudden pent up energy.

“No,” He tells her, “Remember the other day when you texted me to be careful?”

He waits for his friend to nod.

“Well, after that I ran into him at work. He didn’t have any money for the bus home so I invited him over and offered to help. We were just hanging out and talking or whatever. I saw his bruises and he saw my scars. He kind of freaked out after that, though. Left without the money and didn’t talk to me again until I ran into him in the bathroom today.”

“And that’s when he called you crazy?” Sana asks.

Even nods again.

“That son of a fucking bitch.”

Even’s eyes widen as his lips part to let out a small surprised chuckle.

Sana doesn’t swear often, and when she does you know she means business.

He watches as a small storm begins to roll in behind her rich dark eyes, her teeth grinding, her fingers clutching her pencil more tightly. Sana has a protective streak. Something that usually makes Even’s chest warm.

Sana will always choose Even’s side - no matter what. - and he takes such a selfish comfort in that fact. Even has always known he’s had people on his side, but never as fiercely or strongly as he has Sana now.

Sana was dependable and determined and so fucking strong. One of the strongest people Even knew.

Before everything happened a year ago Sana’s brother - Elias - was Even’s best friend. They were inseparable at one point. They were tight.

Then _the incident_ happened and it proved to be too hard for Elias. He didn’t give up on Even completely. He came to the hospital to visit from time to time. Hell, so did the rest of the boys - Mikael, Yousef, and Adam.

They all visited.

But it was different. It was awkward - the visits filled with stiff silences and wandering eyes and long broken gaps in time. The boy’s didn’t know how to talk to Even anymore, they didn’t know how to look at him without seeing his ugly jagged scars, they didn’t know how to be his friend anymore.

Sana was the only one that figured out that she didn’t really have to say anything at all. She knew it was okay to ask questions but she didn’t have to yet. She learned that it was easier to bring a laptop and a movie than it was to try to fill the silences with unneeded words.

And just like that, she replaced her brother’s role.

And Even was so thankful for her.

He smiles softly, “It’s okay, Sana. I don’t really think he knew what he was saying.”

She huffs, widening her eyes in his direction and shaking her head in what seems like disbelief, “How did he not know what he was saying, Even? He saw your scars and called you crazy.”

“I brought up his bruises again, though” He points out “Plus, he doesn’t even know I’m bi-”

“So?” Sana cuts him off harshly “That makes it okay for him to toss around ugly phrases he knows nothing about?”

“Well, no but-” Even pauses, trying to choose his words carefully, wording it in a way that Sana will understand. “I think he’s _hurting_.” Even emphasizes the last word - trying his hardest to get his point across.

And he knows he does when he sees Sana’s eyes soften just slightly, her shoulders relaxing a bit.

Sana knows what he means when he says it.

It’s how he describes his episodes - manic or depressive. They _hurt._ The episodes always feel the same, no matter what, they feel like a bruise spreading through his body - growing harder to ignore as it begins to become blotchy and sore. It starts in his mind and spreads - growing through his neck and chest, wrapping itself around his heart and lungs, latching onto his ribs and planting itself in his stomach until he’s consumed completely by the feeling - high or low. Until he can’t think about anything but the feeling itself.

Feeling every single thing he possibly could, until he literally couldn't feel anything at all.

He hasn’t had an episode in awhile but he’ll never forget that feeling - no matter how long it’s been.

And it hurts. _He_ hurts.

It’s the same kind of hurt he sees reflected in Isak’s eyes now.

He doesn’t know if Isak has any kind of mental illness or similar experience or what situation is happening in his life that leaves him with those kinds of bruises, but he knows that Isak is hurting. He’s hurting so badly.

Even knows what it’s like to hurt badly enough to search for any way to get rid of it - even if that meant hurting someone else in the process. Which he had done many, many times before.

And Even knows what that's like better than anyone. Just like he knows that there’s a way out of that hurt. He’s found it. He’s living it.

It's not an excuse for Isak's actions exactly, but it is a reason.

Even’s eyes remain soft towards his friend, his voice teasing, “You’re a little too hard on people, you know.”

Sana’s eyes roll but she smiles back, her head tilting to the side, her hijab falling from her shoulders, “Maybe you’re just not hard enough.”

He laughs happily.

“I _am_ going to let it go though,” Even concludes, letting out a final sigh as he looks back down at his book “Isak is too fragile and I’ve made way too much progress. I’m staying away from that shit. So, no more talk about Isak.”

“Sounds good to me.”

.

.

.

Isak leaves Chris’ house a few more hours and lines later. Chris invited some friends over to party and Isak wasn’t in the mood for any of that.  He managed to grab a few bags to-go though - free of charge again.

Chris smirked and let his fingertips skim Isak’s neck before he let Isak leave, saying quietly, “So I know you’ll come back, Party Boy.”

Isak wanted to vomit.

He was starting to feel again.

The drugs, no matter how good, can always only keep him numb for so long. Never long enough in Isak’s opinion.

This is when everything starts to creep it’s way back into his rushing mind - the guilt and worry and pity and _disgust_ \- everything just moving more quickly now that he was high.

The self-hatred for letting himself give into his feelings, give into the sickness, for letting Chris touch him that way again, for letting himself like it.

The feelings weren’t fully there yet - just trickling in ever slowly through the cracks in his mind.

The streets are quiet and lonely as he walks briskly. His eyes blink rapidly against the cold air and his hands twitch. The muscles in his thighs clench tightly - his body beginning to wind up again.

He scrolls through his contacts and presses the call button before he can think it through fully.

He’s still in the transitioning phase of his come-down. Nothing really sinking in fully yet. He doesn’t remember that his friend is probably still angry at him right now. He’s probably still hurt. Isak just doesn’t want to be alone when reality crashes back.

“Yeah?” Jonas answers on the third ring.

“Hey,” Isak says casually, like he didn’t have a care in the word.

Jonas laughs bitterly on the other end when Isak doesn’t continue, “Hey?” He asks “That’s all you have to say to me? _Hey_? I nurse you back to health, _again_ , which you didn’t even thank me for I might add and then you basically tell me to go fuck myself and all you can say is hey? What the fuck, Isak?”

Isak doesn’t really know what he should say.

He already knows that everything Jonas is saying is true. He’s a shitty person and a shitty friend and he doesn’t do anything to change it. He’s high and stupid and just wants Jonas to forgive him and let it go like he always does.

He knows he’s not the only person in the world that's hurting and he shouldn’t act like it. He knows he doesn’t have any right to make people feel like shit and let mean words fall from his lips. He knows all of that already. He just doesn’t know what else to do instead of it.

“I’m sorry,” He eventually says back, but even to his own ears the apology sounds dull and dry and fake. He’s still a little too numb to feel his feelings completely. And as the words leave his lips, for a moment, Isak reminds himself of his father - fucked up beyond belief - selfish and fake.

He feels a wave of sickness roll into his stomach and the back of his throat tastes sour.

Jonas can hear it in his tone immediately - he knows his friend is high.

Jonas pauses for a while as Isak continues to walk in the direction of his friend’s house, expecting him to ask Isak where he is before telling him to just come over, but when his voice comes back over the line, it’s quiet and almost _understanding_ and his words are different.

Each of his words is like a knife straight to Isak’s heart, “You know…” Jonas’ words remain thoughtful and steady and calm “If you keep pushing people away, one day they’re going to stop fighting you. _I’m_ going to stop fighting you, Isak. And you’re gonna wake up all alone and have no one to treat like shit and no one to blame but yourself.” 

And then the line goes silent and it takes Isak a moment to realize that Jonas hung up on him. He’s never done that before. He’s never left Isak high and sad and alone before.

He guesses everyone has their limits. Even calm and collected, always prepared, level headed Jonas.

Isak pulls the phone away from his ear to stare down at the words blankly. He lets out a disbelieving chuckle.

_Call disconnected._

Jonas is right.

One day Isak is going to push so hard that no one comes back. It’ll probably be a good thing for them. He doesn’t deserve them anyway. They’d be smart to run.

The thought still sends a panic rushing through Isak’s body, however. The thought of being truly and genuinely alone with his thoughts, in his pain.

The thought is too startling and frightening for him to handle.

Just like with calling Jonas, Isak doesn’t think his next actions all the way through, he barely thinks at all as he turns on his heel and heads in the opposite direction entirely.

.

.

.

The banging on the door is loud, sudden, and erratic - causing both Even and Sana to startle and jump in their seats.

“What the fuck…” Even mumbles under his breath, turning to Sana, their confused eyes meeting across the table.

“Did you invite someone over?” Sana asks, eyebrows raised.

Even let’s out a small snort, standing, “No. Who would I invite over? You’re my only friend.”

The sad thing about that statement was that it was one hundred percent true.

Even makes his way to the door as the banging continues steadily - growing even harder and louder as he approaches - as if the person on the other side is anxious for his arrival.

“Alright, alright,” He calls out loud enough for the person to hear “I’m coming.”

As he finally places his hand on the cold metal of the door knob, and swings the door open, he sees the very last person he expected to see on the other side. 

Isak Valtersen.

He looks up at Even through his lashes, hand raised in mid-air to knock again, with wide eyes and an almost guilty seeming expression. His pupils are too big and his stare is unfocused.

His hair is wild and wind blown and his face tinted pink. He bites down softly on his bottom lip as he remains silent here at Even’s front door. He lowers his hand slowly, seeming embarrassed.

His face is open and vulnerable and sweet looking. All the hardest from earlier today no where in sight.

Isak truly is beautiful this way - eyes wide and searching, cheeks flushed, pink lips pouting and parted. He makes Even's stomach flutter.

His eyes dance around Even’s face and Even can already tell that Isak hasn’t thought his actions all the way through by coming here.

He suddenly seems so small and young. His moss green eyes are hesitant and frightened.

“Isak?” Even questions pointlessly.

Isak clears his throat roughly before shoving his hands into his jacket pockets and shuffling on his feet.

He glances down at the ground, back up at Even, and then repeats the motion again.

“Hey,” He greets him lowly.

And as Even opens his mouth to speak again, he’s stopped, as Sana calls from behind him.

“Okay, now, what the fuck is this!?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More thoughts? More feelings? Concerns? Loving it? Hating it? Let me know! :)
> 
> I'm a little nervous about this chapter so don't leave me hanging!


	7. Here In This Universe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am truly overwhelmed by the amazing response I am getting for this story! I really wasn't expecting such kind words and feedback. This story is so important to me to tell and your thoughtful comments and kudos motivate me to keep pushing myself to write this and tell this story and not be afraid! So thank you so, so, SO much<3\. Please keep the feedback coming! It means the world.
> 
> I am willing to answer any questions you may have or any concerns so comment away! 
> 
> As always, please ignore my horrible horrible lack of editing skills. I try to catch as many mistakes as I can but...yeah.

.

 

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.

 

_"Something better is written for you."_

 

......

He knows he shouldn’t have come here. Like with most things recently - Isak didn’t think this all the way through.

But as he turned on his heel and began to push against the cold unforgiving wind, Jonas’ words kept echoing in his mind - making him feel so small and insignificant.

_Alone._

_Alone._

_Alone._

Isak didn’t want to be alone. He wasn’t good at being alone - alone in his misery and his sorrow.

Even when Isak was younger he was nervous when he was alone. When he would arrive home from school earlier than Lea and a sharp pang ran through his chest until she came back to him. Nothing would even have to be happening - his mom wasn’t being crazy and his dad wasn’t angry.

Isak just couldn’t stand being alone with his own thoughts, thoughts that make the pain in his chest twist tighter.

And as the word grew louder, turning over again and again in the hollows of his mind, and weighed heavier on his chest - he remembered Even.

Even who he didn’t know at all. Even who he has treated like shit. Even who had walked away from him - just like Isak wanted him to at the time.

Pictures flashed through his mind of thick smoke pouring from delicate lips, eye crinkles and lip bites, bright smiles and contagious laughs, messy hair and over-sized hoodies and the smell of fresh rain and bright days and weed.

Isak remembered Even’s understanding eyes and soft-spoken words and his lingering gazes that made Isak feel anything but alone. They made Isak feel.... _something._ Something powerful and tender in the pit of his stomach.

Something _good_. And Isak needed a little good in his life, because he didn’t have much. He knew he didn’t deserve good things. But Even didn’t know that yet.

Isak hadn’t pushed Even too far yet, or hurt him too many times, or fucked everything up like he was eventually bound to do. He still had time.

Even didn’t know how fucked up Isak was yet. He didn’t know about the dark sickness that lived inside his body and tortured his brain. His presence made Isak feel good and safe and like there was hope that someday Isak could find a place to call home. That maybe it wasn’t so far away after all. Even if it was all a lie, Isak could pretend it was real for right now.

So, yeah, Isak was high and acting on instinct and not thinking about much else.

Now he stands awkwardly by Even’s front door much like he did the first time he was here. He shuffles and sniffs and waits. His tongue feels like sandpaper against the roof of his mouth and his eyes are somehow both too dry and too moist. 

The apartment is the same as Isak remembers - filled with culture and experience. The atmosphere makes him feel secure and free to do anything. Comforted and open.

He wants to go read the quotes taped to the wall and look at the poorly drawn sketches but his vision is slightly blurred.

The room smells like a freshly lit candle.

It’s warm inside the apartment and Isak can feel his palms begin to sweat from inside his pockets.

As soon as Even had ushered him inside, Sana grabbed her friend’s hand, dragging him roughly into the next room while Even stumbled behind her, throwing a quick “be right back” over his shoulder to Isak.

He really didn’t know what to expect.

Sana slammed the door shut and immediately began yelling. She wasn’t even trying to whisper for Isak’s sake - even as Even tried to get her to quiet her words and lower her voice.

Of course they would notice how high Isak was. It wasn't that hard to spot. Jonas was always able to tell just from the sound of Isak’s words - a little rushed and a little slurred as his hands trembled. His pupils were blown and his eyes were too wide. That’s why when he got lost like this he usually hid from the people he cared about the most - so they weren’t able to see his just how pathetic his life really was.

He closes his fist tightly around the drugs in his pocket and his chest feels hollow - his heart sunken deep.

And as Sana’s words grow louder - Isak feels even smaller and more stupid being here than he had before.

“He’s high as a fucking kite, Even!”

“Will you please lower your damn voice?”

“You need to get him out of here.”

“He hasn’t even done anything yet! You didn’t give him a chance to say anything to me before you dragged me in here.”

“What happened to being done? No more Isak talk? He’s bad news.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You need to send him away.”

“Why? Because he’s a little high right now?” 

“What is with you and charity cases, Even? Why do you have to be the one to help him?”

“Who said anything about helping him? I just want to talk to him! He came here for a reason.”

“He-”

Isak eventually lets himself drown out the sound of their rambling. His head is beginning to feel light - too light - making the floor shake beneath him and the room spin around him.

He stumbles his way into the kitchen, hitting a few items as he goes, he doesn’t bother to check what they are. It’s an odd sensation - the feeling of your own legs not being able to support you.

A sour taste begins to form at the back of his throat again.

Even’s kitchen is small and neat much like the rest of his apartment, the table is littered with school books and the tiled black and white floor looks spotless enough to eat off of.

Isak opens one of the cabinets to grab a glass - his movements are shaky and careless and he barely notices when he knocks a few things down from there.

He quickly fills the glass with water and chugs the whole thing. Then he does it again.

And again.

And again.

Water spills from the corners of his mouth and onto his shirt. The water does nothing the quench the thirst inside of his body and fill the dryness that lays there.

The unforgiving fluorescent lights flickering from above do nothing to help the pain that rests at Isak’s temples.

“Thirsty are you?”

He turns to see both Sana and Even standing at the kitchen archway.

Sana’s eyes are locked on Isak’s in a glare - a glare intense enough to make him shrink away. He pulls the glass from his mouth and wipes away a small droplet of water from his chin.

He looks down, embarrassed now, “I’m sorry,” He says softly “For helping myself. I was just really....yeah, thirsty.”

His voice is rough and cracked.

He feels so out of place here. Somewhere that is obviously filled with care and comfort. Somewhere that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have to always hide. He doesn’t belong places like this.

He notices Even’s bare feet as he looks down and how even something as simple as that makes him realize that this isn’t a place for him. He usually always keeps his shoes on when he’s at his own house, or he sleeps with them tucked right beside his bed, just in case he had to run - make a quick getaway.

Sana scoffs but Even speaks softly, “It’s okay.”

Isak squirms under both their gazes. He clears his throat and places the glass lightly on the counter.

“I can go,” He tells Even, focusing hard on a small rip in his owns jeans, “I can see you guys were studying I...I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

He doesn’t know if he secretly wants Even to tell him, _yes please just leave,_ or if he wants Even to smile his way, sweet and serene, and ask him to stay.

“No,” Sana’s sharp voice cuts right through the small blonde, making his head lift again, and his stomach clench “I was leaving actually. You stay.”

She quickly gathers her belongings, her movements choppy and angry as she shoves everything into her large bag.

She gives Isak one last glare before she pushes past Even, bumping his shoulder on the way, without another word. Isak watches as Even’s blue eyes roll towards the heavens. Despite Sana’s coarse actions - Even chuckles a little.

_Always laughing. Always happy._

Isak can see Even’s vicious scars, that scream out as a permanent reminder of the pain and sadness that Even once felt, every time he closes his eyes and Isak needs to know. _How?_ How can he be so happy with those reminders written across his arms?

The scars on Even’s arms are how Isak would picture the scars inside his mind would look. Tortured and angry and savage.

Isak is good at pretending to be normal and okay, but Even doesn’t seem to be pretending at all.

It’s quiet for a few moment - the silence echoing through the stillness of the kitchen as Isak gets lost in his thoughts.

Neither boy really knows how to continue from here. Neither of them knows why Isak came.

“I don’t even know what the fuck I’m doing here,” Isak mutters, mostly to himself, because it’s true.

This was a worse idea than the first time he agreed to come here. He scratches the non-existent itch on the back of his neck and looks up at Even.

The dirty-blonde’s eyes are narrowed slightly - a thoughtful look etched across his features.

Isak looks back down when he feels his stomach become light.

He isn’t even sure that the other boy heard his words when when he hears Even begin to approach - his steps are hesitant and his movements are careful.

Isak looks up to find Even looking down at him. His face is open and peaceful. He doesn’t stand close but Isak can still smell him - he smells fresh and clean and warm. He smells like rain and the ocean and a cool breeze.

Isak wants to move forward at the scent.

It isn’t until Even reaches down into the sink that Isak finally sees what he knocked over - a few scattered orange bottles that are obviously some kind of medication. Isak doesn’t manage to read the labels on them but there are at least five bottles. Even gathers them quickly and places them back into their spots on the shelf.

He doesn’t seem angry or embarrassed or upset.

He’s tentative.

Isak doesn’t move his eyes from the taller boy’s face as the mood in the room begins to settle.

“Sorry about Sana,” Even shrugs “She’s a bit protective of me.”

Isak nods.

So, Even obviously told her about the bathroom.

He wonders if their friendship is anything like his and Jonas’. Well, before Isak began to fuck everything up.

Jonas was Isak’s rock. He told him everything he possible could.

His early teen years were spent completely with the older boy. Their hysterical laughter and stupid teenage boy pranks. Their nonsensical ramblings and silly bickering. Weed and video games and the skate park. So much time spent talking about how they were going to graduate from school and go off and get an apartment together, go to the same university, date girls who were also best friends.

He also remembers cold dark nights when Isak would come running to Jonas - breathless and lost - and Jonas would wipe his tears away and hold him close in the warmth of his room and whisper things that made Isak feel okay and he would never ask a single question.

He misses that.

He bites his lip to stop it from trembling - trying his hardest to push the thoughts away.

Isak had fucked up today with Jonas, but he doesn’t have to fuck it up with Even yet.

He swallows thickly. He never has been good with apologies. Mostly, because those required actually facing his actions instead of running from them. And when it came down to is - Isak was a coward in most aspects of his life.

“Yeah, listen,” Isak starts - there is a shake in his voice - but Even’s eyes don’t leave his, they don’t seem to judge or ridicule, so instead of making him more nervous - it almost calms him. Makes the words easier to find. Easier to say. “I’m, uhm, I’m sorry about what I said in the bathroom. I know…” His eyes find the ceiling and focus on a dull yellow stain there “I know you were just trying to help or whatever. I didn’t mean that shit.”

The words linger steadily in the air.

Even can see how uncomfortable Isak is by the way his eyes flick around the room - avoiding his own. The way he shifts his weight between feet and how his words are rushed and uneven.

“It’s okay,” Even tells him simply, “I forgive you.”

Isak watches him with deliberate eyes.

That’s when Isak realizes what he’s feeling. That new and hopeful kind of excitement that Isak has found, he knows what it is. He doesn’t have an exact name for it but Even’s eyes are their own kind of drug to him.

These eyes make Isak’s body and his mind feel like he just popped the most lovely kind of pill.  

Even blinks slowly and doesn't back down. He means his words. He really does forgive him.

Isak knew he probably would. Isak has a kind face and deceiving vibes about himself.

But he also knows that Even shouldn’t. He wants to laugh cruelly and tell him how foolish he is for forgiving him. That Isak will betray that forgiveness eventually. That all Even had to do was go ask Jonas.

But he doesn’t.

He smiles and he watches Even smile back in return. 

Something hidden in Even’s smile makes Isak feel better.

Isak is so wrapped up in this feeling of ease that he doesn’t have time to think about the fact that the smile on his face is real and comes so naturally.

He focuses on the milky skin that stretches over Even’s collarbones and the small moles littered across his neck. He feels his pulse heavily in his wrists and neck and behind his eyes.

He doesn’t even get a chance to think about what these thoughts mean, or the sickness inside of him.

“So…” Isak says, voice rough still, he needs more water “Maybe I just don’t bring up your scars,” He gestures to Even’s arms, now covered by a heavy gray sweatshirt “And you don’t bring up my fucking bruises, okay?” He tries to keep his voice light.

He doesn’t know how well it works but Even smiles a little wider now - showing teeth. “Deal.” He gives a firm nod of his head. “So, friends?”

Isak pauses - the word makes something quiver inside of him.

 _Friends_.

Isak has friends. Magnus and Mahdi were his friends. Jonas was the best friend he could ever ask for. But Isak had never thought about this. Meeting someone new now, talking, getting to know them, liking them and having them like Isak in return - or like who they _thought_ Isak was, really.

He met his other friends when he was at least a little less fucked up. He was able to resemble a semi-functioning person. Now, Isak didn’t know how to do that. He was walking down a path of self-destruction and he knew it. He didn’t try to stop it.

He could die tomorrow and, honestly, it would be alright. Nothing would be lost. As long as he didn’t take anyone down with him - he’d be okay with the outcome. That might be his way of finding a home one of these days.

Even’s eyes remain questioning as Isak begins to answer, “I don’t know. Maybe.” His voice is so small and child-like - his words spoken slowly “I’m not great at the whole friend thing. Probably won’t work out.”

Even is still as quiet and thoughtful as ever and doesn’t let his smile drop. He looks at Isak like he understands, like he could ever possibly understand what Isak truly meant by his words.

Even tilts his head to the side and gives Isak that look that makes his skin tingle.

“Well, you’ll never know if you don’t try,” Even concludes - voice confident and final. He clasps his hands together loudly and laughs when Isak jumps, “Plus, lucky for you I’m great at the whole friendship thing. Oh! And I’ve got ice cream. Want some ice cream?”

.

.

.

Isak stays for some ice cream.

They sit on Even’s worn-in comfy sofa that dips too low when you sit, with two huge bowls of some kind of ice cream Isak has already forgotten the name of. But it’s chocolatey and creamy and has brownies, marshmallows, peanut butter, and chocolate syrup.

Isak practically moans around every single spoonful.

As Isak comes down from his high - he begins to relax. He’s never really has a come down like this. Instead of everything rushing in at once - the fear and paranoia and misery crashing into him in powerful waves - he’s easing back into reality. He listens from his side of the couch as Even talks more about movies and music.

“Did you listen to that album I told you about? NAS?”

“Nas? Yeah, I listened. They were good.”

“Oh my god, Isak. You’re cute. I’ll show you _his_ stuff sometime.”

Even laughs when Isak’s cheeks burn with a blush.

He smiles a lot - his teeth almost perfectly straight and still blindingly white. His tongue is stained a dark color from the chocolate and his lips look cold whenever Isak’s eyes linger there for a beat too long. He has to pull his gaze away from time to time, praying the older boy doesn’t notice.

If Even does notice he doesn’t let it show.

Just like the last time Isak was here, Even talks enough for the both of them, and asks minimal questions.

Isak takes off his jacket and Even doesn’t glance once at his visible bruises - fading and pale but still there.

Isak watches in wonder as Even rambles, his heart flips when Even throws his head back to let out a melodic laugh, he looks away quickly every time the older boy licks the cold ice cream from his lips.

Isak is talking back though. He’s laughing. Not pretending to laugh but _really_ laughing.

He feels like....himself. Here in the unchanging calmness of Even’s presence.

_Himself._

Being himself is a new and odd concept to Isak. It’s almost like, as Even is learning more about Isak, the younger boy is _relearning_ himself. He feels fourteen all over again. Chest full and warm. He feels himself pretending less and less and just letting everything come naturally. Not stuck somewhere in between escape and reality. But he’s here. Right here, right now in the real world. Here in this universe. And he’s okay.

This side of him has been tucked away for so long Isak didn’t know it existed anymore. He figured it was long gone.

The side of him that was young and open and willing to explore and wonder and talk. The side of him that smiled genuinely and was rid of any tense muscles or dark all-consuming thoughts.

Isak stumbles from time to time of course - not really knowing what to say or exactly how to reply to keep to conversation moving but Even doesn’t seem to mind. He fidgets on the couch and let's Even take over the awkward silences. Apparently Even really likes to talk. And he’s good at it. And Isak finds that he likes that fact, because Isak himself was never good at talking in the first place.

He tries his hardest to push past the fear of forgetting how to be like this.

He’s so used to pretending - he’s built the walls inside of himself so high that peeking over them now takes all the strength that Isak has.

It’s unsettling. And sad that he has to relearn himself in the first place.

But beautiful all the same.

He’s so wrapped up in Even’s charm and calmness that he’s distracted. He can’t even feel his guilt anymore.

All he can see is Even. All he can feel is Even’s strong emotions hitting him over and over again as he speaks.

In the back of his mind Isak knows this shouldn’t be happening. Isak should shut it down before anything is even started. It’s wrong. But somehow - being here feels right.

Isak doesn’t remember the last time he’s felt right if it didn’t involve some kind of drug, some kind of escape, some kind of numbness.

“I know you didn’t mean to,” Isak says as he scoops up the last bit of ice cream in his bowl - slightly melted and dripping messily. “But I think you just actually ruined my life with this ice cream.”

Even laughs, nodding and finishing off his last spoonful, “I know what you mean - Sana ruined mine first by showing it to me.”

There’s a lull in the conversation from there - Isak places his empty bowl down on the coffee table beside him, letting his eyes wander around Even’s apartment once more.

Novels and movies and records still fill the spaces in the room.

Isak’s eyes linger on the organized DVDs stacked neatly in the corner, TV still nowhere in sight. Isak guesses there has to be at least thirty or forty cases - colorful and numbered.

Isak’s never been a huge movie person. He always found real life more interesting - playing video games with his friend’s or riding bikes with his sister. Ever since he was a child, Isak could never sit still during movies. He became restless too quickly and bored way too easily. He found the characters dull. He could definitely be doing something more interesting outside where it was bright and slightly warmer during the year.

But now Isak thinks that maybe he was missing something that he hadn’t given a chance from the beginning.

“So….you really  _are_ into movies then.” Isak chuckles, gesturing to the piles. He wants to sound nonchalant and super casual as he turns his curious, inquisitive eyes back to Even.

He catches the tail end of a smile that spread across the older boy’s face - wide and bright and fond. Isak wonders if he’s ever smiled at anything like that. Passionate.

He stays quiet, knowing he hasn’t.

“Oh yeah,” Even laugh-coughs, making a similar hand gesture towards his collection, then pulling a joint from the pocket of his sweatshirt. Isak’s starting to think he has those things tucked away everywhere. “It’s kind of embarrassing just having those sitting there, really. I should just put them in my room. Not that anyone really comes here in the first place but...”

“What’s your favorite movie?” Isak finds himself asking, watching as Even lights the joint, smoke immediately pooling between pink lips.

“Oh god, just one?” Even shakes his head, turning his fond eyes back to Isak, and if the blonde boy didn’t know better he could let himself believe that Even had that look in his eyes because of Isak himself, the thought makes his throat clench.

“Impossible,” the third year continues “I mean...I have multiple _favorites_ . Uhm, _Romeo + Juliet_ is probably very high on the list of them.”

Isak raises his eyebrows, his lips turning up without his permission, “Really? _Romeo + Juliet_? That’s...so cheesy. Of course that would be your favorite. Romantic tragedy.”

Even’s smile doesn’t drop, in fact it grows, completely unoffended by Isak’s words. He hands the joint over to Isak and he lets himself take a generous puff.

“You don’t listen very well” Even tells him “I said _one_ of my favorites. I’m also a big fan of thriller films.”

“Right, right.”

“Seriously! _Primal Fear, Fight Club, Nightcrawler._ Some of my favorites.”

“Never seen any of them.”

“ _Also_ ,” Even continues pointedly, snatching the smoke back, “I’m talking about the 1996 version of the story. Baz Lurhmann’s movie. It’s less so my favorite because of the story and more so because of the direction.”

“What do you mean?” Isak wonders out loud - not really understanding the concept of watching a movie for anything but the story itself.

“Well,” Even angles his body towards the boy beside him, his ice cream bowl beside Isak’s on the table now, his long limbs folding awkwardly beneath him on the small couch, “Like you said...if you think about it _Romeo + Juliet_ is cheesy, it’s kind of a lame story. I mean...they meet and it’s the most insta-love thing in the entire world, not to mention that Juliet is literally fifteen years old in the original, and they’re just so willing to lose everything and die for each other at the end? No real conversations or experiences together? But...in Lurhmann’s version - I don’t know.” Even’s eyes begin to shift and stray from the green ones before him, getting lost in his words, passion and sentiment laced into every single one. “There’s something about the world he creates even through all the tragedy. Something rich and hopeful, at least for me. Like...like, yeah, those characters chose to end their lives, they made a stupid choice so they could be reunited, but that was _their choice_ . However unfortunate it may be. And it makes me think about how we get to be the directors of our own lives now, telling the stories that we want to tell. We can’t really control circumstances but we can control ourselves, and ourselves only, in those circumstances. I get that Romeo went and got that poison for _love_ or whatever but I take comfort in the fact of knowing that he didn’t _have_ to get it, even if he did. Does that make any sense? I feel like I’m rambling now. I’ll just...” Even trails off awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck and letting out an embarrassed chuckle.

Isak didn’t really mind, he found himself liking Even’s rambling, leaning forward just a bit more and listening intently. And it kind of did make sense to him.

Watching the joy and excitement dance behind Even’s eyes makes it so easy for Isak to feel those exact things - Even’s energy is strong enough for both of them. Even’s features are happy yet shy, his cheeks filled red and his teeth pressed into his plump bottom lip - making Isak unconsciously mirror the action and bite his own.

His body is filled with a serene kind of lightness.

“No, I get that” Isak answers, elbows on his knees, legs folded beneath him, face resting in the palm of his hands - his cheeks warm and his stomach fuzzy. He smiles, “I mean...I’m not sure if I agree but I understand.”

Even is quiet for a moment, his face staying relaxed and enthusiastic, he licks his lips before he answers back in a hushed tone, “You don’t agree?”

Isak shrugs. He doesn’t really know what he believes in enough to _truly_ disagree.

“I just think I’ve never been in control of much.” His gaze is steady and lingering “Not just circumstances but myself. I’ve never really been good at controlling _anything_ \- _especially_ myself. I kind of figured that’s just the way it was supposed to be. Like, maybe somewhere else in another universe I’m in control of everything. But not here, not now.”

“Parallel universe?”

“Mhm,” Isak nods, his head growing heavier in his hands, “Like, this is obviously only _one_ version of what’s happening right now in the universe. I mean, it has to be, science proves that energy doesn’t die so...we are just one tiny little blip on the radar, really. Compared to how big the universe is and how small we are - we’d be foolish to think anything else. Kind of like past lives. You’ve heard of those, right? Well, it’s like that but instead of being in the past...those different lives are happening right now. And anything that _can_ happen, _will_ happen, and not only that but _it is_ happening, out there somewhere. The different versions of us. There could be another Isak and Even somewhere right now, sitting in the exact same spots, and doing the exact same thing except, I don’t know…” He looks over at the blue curtains covering the small windows of Even’s apartment, casting shadows on the floor, “with different colored curtains.” He finishes.

Even is kind of surprised, and Isak can understand, because that’s the most Isak has said around him since they’ve started talking.

He can tell that Isak really believes what he’s saying - he makes his interest in the subject clear with his suddenly animated hand gestures and wide, eager eyes.

The way Even is looking at him, Isak can’t help but feel like Even is seeing something, something that Isak obviously can’t see. Something wonderful and wild. Something worth looking at. His body heats under the other boy’s stare and he fidgets continuously.

Even looks at Isak like he sees something beautiful reflected back.

His lips pull up yet again as he stubs the joint out in the ashtray behind him on the end table. He leans back against the arm of the couch and watches Isak’s cheeks grow a subtle pink color.

“So, yellow curtains then?”

Isak lets out a quiet chuckle, “Sure. Whatever.” He says, sitting back against his own arm rest.

“Seems too unreal,” Even says “That we have no control over our lives here. Parallel universes or not. We have to be able to control _something_.”

Isak was figuring out that Even was a dreamer, something that he could appreciate and respect - he himself hated reality too. His outlets were just a little unhealthier than owning too many movies and having a love for beautiful cinematic direction.

But when Isak was here in reality - he was a realist. He believes in science. He believes in evolution and that most things really were black and white. People just made shit too complicated, just because they could. Maybe fate wasn’t science, but it was a reasonable explanation in his mind, which he was always willing to listen to.

Even and him seemed to be different sides of the same coin - neither completely comfortable with their own reality.

Isak’s eyelids are sleepy and heavy from the drugs, his eyes lingering on the dirty blonde strands of hair poking out from beneath Even’s hoodie.

The calmness in the air makes Isak’s words become honest, more honest than he’s been in a long time, maybe the most honest that he’s _ever_ been in his life.

He plays with a loose thread on the couch and speaks softly.

“Sometimes,” His eyes don’t move from Even’s - soft and pale and willing to see and listen - Isak’s heart doesn’t race in fear as the words continue to pour from his lips, it races because of the striking color of the older boy’s eyes and the sound of his voice and the way he talks to Isak like he cares about something real. “I feel like I was born to break. I mean...we can’t be born for greatness in all the universes, right? Lately, I’ve been thinking that I should start making peace with the fact that this Isak just isn’t meant for great things. Good things, even.” He watches as Even’s lips begin to fall, his face clouding with a different emotion, Isak’s words becoming more and more true, “That’s what _I_ take comfort in. Knowing that, maybe, in another universe there’s an Isak that is destined for that - for something better.”

Even frowns, his forehead wrinkling as his eyes still don’t move. Isak has a sudden urge to reach out and smooth his fingertip over the crease between Even’s eyebrows - ridding him of the tension there.

“That’s bullshit.” Even says suddenly, bluntly, not the slightest bit sorry - taking Isak a bit by surprise. He sits forward now, his words become more intense and fierce.

“Bullshit?” Isak’s voice rises.

His eyes grow darker and harder - softness remaining just around the edges of Even’s features now. It’s almost like he _needs_ Isak to hear him, to listen to and believe the words he’s speaking, like this is the most important thing to him right now.

“I don’t accept that concept.” Even says - his voice is quiet but powerful. Isak shrinks away slightly, feeling almost as if he’s in trouble, like Even is reprimanding him for his words. “If I had that mindset...I...shit…” He pauses, taking a deep breath, seeming to settle himself as his words become more erratic “Talk like that is dangerous, Isak. Because if I still thought like that then...I’d be dead in this universe.Do you get that? Those scars we’re not supposed to talk about? I would have tried again and I would have succeeded, or I’d be off my meds and out of my mind, Isak. We wouldn’t be here right fucking now talking about yellow fucking curtains. And then...I wouldn’t….” Even stops short - shaking his heads and biting his lip. His face has never been more open and vulnerable in front of Isak. His skin is flushed and looks like it would be hot to the touch.

Isak stays quiet too, having a feeling that Even needs to finish this.

“I wouldn’t have been able to show you that awesome ice cream.”

Neither of the boy’s smile at the lame attempt at a joke. They just sit and keep their stare in place.

The sun continues to try to illuminate the room behind Even, shielded by the curtains, continuing to cast shadows that dance along to walls and make Isak blink quickly. The darkness makes Even’s skin glow brighter.

Isak doesn’t know what this feeling is - this new and terrifying feeling. This feeling of _want_. Of need. For something. For nothing and everything all at once. Not for escape, but for a feeling.

Usually Isak is content being empty.

But Even’s words seem to stir something strong inside of Isak. Something resting there that he didn’t even know about until the other boy began to creep his way into Isak’s universe - pushing him forward yet pulling him close with his words.

Now, he wants the emotions bubbling up inside him to be released - to be seen and to be felt. He wants a name to put to them.

“I think, maybe, you’re just scared of the parallel universes. I think it’s really interesting.” Isak concludes, not really knowing what else to say, never knowing how to respond to Even’s powerful emotions and meaningful words.

“I think you’re beautiful.”

Isak’s eyes widen as the sentence spills from Even’s lips, coming out of no where, with no warning at all. One of the feelings tumbling inside of him suddenly striking his chest - sharp and hard.

No one has ever called Isak beautiful before. He couldn’t imagine someone ever needing to, or wanting to.

Even’s eyes widen in return, his mouth opens and closes a few times - as if he’s trying to search for the words he just said and take them back. Like he didn’t mean for them to come out at all. His expression matches Isak’s - one of shock and disbelief.

“I uhm-” He coughs, laughs, tries to backtrack, shifting uncomfortably and avoiding Isak’s eyes now “That’s not what...I didn’t mean...I just….”

The expression in his eyes is something of fear and worry, screaming, _I’m so fucked._

Both the boys jump when Isak’s phone suddenly vibrates loudly against the coffee table - breaking the uncomfortable feeling that has began to form and settle around them.

Isak glances down, ignoring the flittering inside of his body, the throb of feelings in his chest, as his eyes focus on the brightened phone screen.

His stomach drops as the words on the screen register in his brain - reality crashing back into him - hard and heavy and brutal.

 **Lea:** _911!!!!!!_

“Isak?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wasn't sure if they use '112' as an expression in Norway to signal an emergency and google was no help so I decided to just leave it. Whatever the case...Lea means it's a fucking emergency! Maybe someone let me know in the comments!? :)
> 
> Don't forget to leave love (or anything else you may want to get out) down below! <3.


	8. The Kids Aren't Alright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! First off I just want to apologize for the delay on this chapter. Real life has been kicking my ass but I promise I'm always trying to get the chapters out as soon as I possibly can.
> 
> Secondly - I'm sending hugs to all of you out there as a fandom. Skam is over and my heart hasn't stopped aching since the final clip was released :( I'm going to miss those damn characters so much. They've touched my life in ways I can't even begin to describe and I know you all feel the same way. 
> 
> & OF COURSE I would choose to start writing and publishing one of my saddest and most angsty fic ideas first just as we're all heartbroken over the end of Skam. Hahahaha. BUT I also want you all to know that as long as you guys keep reading and letting me know you want more that I have TONS of AU ideas (some angsty and some not so much) that I'm already outlining :) So, as long as you all are willing to read, I'm willing to stay and write. 
> 
> And lastly - thank you to everyone who is still here reading and commenting and leaving me such wonderful feedback! You have no idea how much it means to me and it truly is what keeps me writing and posting. It gives me so much motivation and inspiration! <3\. 
> 
> & as always ignore my shitty ass editing skills. 
> 
> Oh! One more thing...I don't know much about mental health care in Norway. I've done some research but not enough to be a pro. So excuse the Americanization once again!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Alt er love<3.

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_"You can't protect yourself from sadness without also protecting yourself from happiness."_

 

_......_

_Their mom was always loud when she got like this. She would yell things that didn’t make sense to her children. She would scream about the end of the world and how they were all doomed. She would look at her son with dull empty eyes and tell him he was going to Hell for being such a bad little boy. She would grip his small frail shoulders too tightly and spit would land on his cheeks as she settled her face too closely to his and yelled and yelled and yelled._

_But she’s never been like this. She’s never been this violent._

_A nine year old Isak was sitting in his bedroom, doodling carelessly - bored and tired - when he heard the first crash and his sister call out for him._

_He jumped up and ran as fast as he could, his eyes searching frantically until he found Lea - small and huddled in the corner of the kitchen - face buried into her knees._

_Isak’s eyes widened when he stepped into the room and saw his mother._

_Mamma looked wild. Her hair was frizzy and messy and sticking up in every direction. She wore nothing but her favorite robe, hanging open and exposing her completely naked skin. Her face was red and blotchy and her eyes didn’t see. She was somewhere else completely._

_The look on her face was one of complete madness. A kind of madness that Isak had never seen before. Her eyes were almost completely black, her lips were dry and chapped and bleeding._

_A chill ran up Isak’s spine at the sight, ice cold, and his small hands began to shake._

_She was screaming. She was screaming about Hell fire and sins and bad, wicked children that would pay. She had the cabinets open - throwing anything she could get her hands on - plates and bowls and coffee mugs. Broken glass littered the tile of the kitchen floor and dug into Isak’s feet as he moved further into the room._

_Isak watches as the mug he made for her in school - painted messily with the words **#1 Mamma** crashes by her feet - breaking into a million different pieces._

_The destruction and chaos around Isak makes his blood pump faster - spreading to Isak quickly - causing a wreckage inside of him._

_Isak tries to get her to see him, “Mamma stop!” His little voice yells._

_His mom doesn’t stop or look over to him, Isak’s pretty sure she didn’t hear him at all._

_“And we will be washed!” She continues to yell, another dish shattering as her arms flail “We will be cleansed of all of our sins! When the day of judgement comes and the world ceases to be!”_

_Isak can’t look away. His whole body shakes at the sight in front of him._

_This is so very wrong. This isn’t his Mamma. His Mamma is warm and special and kind. She’s funny and paints beautifully. She reads stories to Isak and Lea until they can’t keep their eyes open any longer. She makes brownies with them on the weekends and playfully bops Isak’s nose, leaving a smear of uncooked brownie mix._

_“Isak!” Lea’s frightened voice pulls Isak out of his trance._

_He looks over to see her reaching out for him, her small delicate hands making a grabbing motion, silently asking for the safety of her brother’s arms._

_He hates that she’s here, that she has to see this. All Isak ever wants to do is protect Lea from this. From anything that makes Isak’s insides shake. When his mom’s eyes begin to glaze over and her words become breathy and crazy, Isak usually makes Lea go to her room. He turns her TV on, volume all the way up, and waits the crazy out._

_It’s been getting worse lately - the episodes coming on more frequently, the screams are becoming louder, the words are becoming crazier._

_He makes his way to Lea as quickly as he can - ignoring each tiny sharp pain on the bottom of feet - glass digging into the soft skin there._

_As soon as he’s close enough, Lea latches onto him, her fists wrapping themselves around his T-shirt - hanging on like her life depends on it._

_Her face touches his neck and he feels her skin - wet and tear soaked._

_“Make her stop, Isak,” Lea sobs, clinging tightly to her brother’s body. “Please, I just want her to stop.”_

_Isak nods. He knows. He wants her to stop too._

_He holds onto his sister tighter and tries to speak as lowly and calmly as possible. His mom’s voice is growing louder with each second - the sounds of shattering glass behind him adding to the urgency and turmoil of the situation._

_Glass skids across the floor and hits the back of his bare feet._

_It’s as though he can feel the breaking dishware within himself. Something shattering inside of him along with the bowls scattered across the room. His breathing is harsh to his own ears. But he tries to be present and strong. For Lea._

_“Are you hurt?” Isak asks her, wishing he could pull away and inspect her for any cuts or bruises but she clings too tightly to his body._

_She shakes her head._

_“No,” She cries._

_“Shh, shh,”_

_Isak doesn’t know what to do._

_He’s always been good at protecting Lea, being there for her whenever she needed him, staying calm and level headed for her. He always had comforting words on the tip of his tongue and a deeply buried smile that was reserved just for her. But this is new territory. He’s never had to deal with violence or anger like this before._

_And he feels it in the air, just how different this moment is, something shifting roughly inside of the Valtersen home. Something changing. It’s not going to be the same. His mom’s eyes are too lost this time. He isn’t able to touch her face with his small hands, whisper comforting words, and find her again like he sometimes does._

_He can’t find her this time._

_And right now, Isak wishes that someone was out there, looking for a way to find_ him _._

_He tries to shield Lea’s small shivering frame as best he can - curling himself over top her, trying not to let the small glass pieces touch her skin as they continue to fly through the room, sprinkling across the bare flesh of Isak’s legs._

_Lea and Isak hear it at the same time - the front door opening, keys jingling, the locks being turned - signaling the arrival of their father. Isak has never been happier to hear that sound in his entire life. Usually that sound meant the fun had to stop. His mother wouldn’t laugh as loudly or smile as brightly whenever their dad got home. She always said he was too tired to play and they had to be quieter when he was around._

_That sound usually signaled disappointment to Isak. But not today, today the only thing he felt at the sound was pure relief - washing over him in a cool, calm wave._

_He lets out a breath and he feels Lea’s body begin to sag against his - relaxing more now too. Her hands begin to unclench around his shirt._

_“It’s okay,” Isak tells her - believing his own words as he says them “Pappa is home now.”_

_Isak turns, letting his arms fall away from his sister’s, he looks over to find his dad standing at the archway of the den, clothes wrinkled, tie loosened - his mouth hanging open in shock and fear, his tired green eyes wide and focused on his son, he doesn’t move though - just stares._

_“Pappa?” Isak questions as the man looks over to his wife, back to his children, and repeats._

_He didn’t know what he expected his father’s first reaction to be but it most certainly wasn’t this. His father was always so good in high pressure situations. He always knew what to say and what to do and how to handle things - especially when Isak didn’t._

_Isak doesn’t get a chance to say anything else._

_Lea calls out a second too late, her voice frantic, panic making it rise and her words screech, “Isak!” She yells desperately._

_He feels her small hands grip the back of his shirt, tugging as hard as she can. His body stumbles back against her but it’s not enough._

_He sees his father’s eyes widen even further as he seems to finally understand the situation and begins to move forward. But he’s too late too._

_Isak doesn’t see the heavy plate flying through the air, coming right for him, like both Lea and his father do._

_Everything seems to move in slow motion around him - Lea’s weak arms trying to pull her brother back, his father moving towards his mother - arms flailing and voice finally working._

_“Anita stop!”_

_Isak feels the sharp direct pain - blunt and heavy and demanding to be felt. It starts in his jaw and begins to spread immediately to every part of his face. The bones there begin to vibrate at the contact, sending a pang through his entire skull. He clenches his eyes shut tightly and feels himself let out a loud gasp - the air being stolen from his lungs. He hears Lea scream and a harsh thud across the room, one body hitting another, and then his mom’s screams match Lea’s._

_His neck is suddenly red hot and damp - the liquid coating his skin thickly and moving too quickly - he doesn’t want to look down and see the dark red color there. He feels glass cling to the skin of his cheeks and hang onto his eyelashes._

_He feels the tears begin to move down his face hotly._

_He’s never felt so unsafe and unsure in his own home. He wanted to be anywhere else but here. He wanted to be anyone else but him. And he hated that feeling._

_As he listens to his sister’s loud sobs and his father across the room, wrestling with his mother, trying to get her to calm down - he knows it for sure._

_Nothing will ever be the same here again._

.

.

.

Isak’s fingertips find the spot on his jaw, tracing the small bumpy scar that trails all the way back to meet his left ear.

It’s actually a pretty small and unnoticeable scar. The cut itself wasn’t bad - it was pretty superficial actually, not deep or serious enough to need stitches. It mostly just bled a lot at the time, which scared the shit out of Isak. And it hurt. It hurt so much. The pain radiated through his jaw for days afterwards as bruises scattered across his cheeks and chin. The plate was a heavy serving plate and Isak’s faces caused it to break into six scattered pieces.

He remembers his father’s words that night, after his mom had calmed down and his father got her tucked away into bed, after Lea cried herself tired and fell asleep in a small ball on Isak’s bed sheets.

Isak was sat on the couch, his face bandaged and throbbing, as his dad looked down at him. He told him he wouldn’t be able to go to school for a few weeks while he healed, that people would ask too many questions and that wouldn’t be good for Mamma because she gets so easily stressed, he’d come up with some kind of excuse for the school.

Isak expected his dad to hug him, to tell him he was sorry he wasn’t there to stop it, that he was going to figure out what to do about Mamma getting more and more crazy.

But he didn’t.

He looked down at his son with a hard cruel gaze that made Isak feel useless. His voice was emotionless and mean sounding and made Isak cry.

_“You’re not to tell anyone about this, Isak. Do you hear me? No one. I’ll talk to your sister in the morning about it.”_

And that was the last time they ever spoke of it.

Isak’s bruises eventually faded and his cut turned into a scar and when he went back to school no one even noticed he had been gone.

His mother woke up the next day and didn’t remember anything. She walked out of the bedroom with a high smile and happy words. She frowned when she seen Isak’s face and asked him when happened. His father yelled at him to stop when he had started crying.

A week after that - it was like nothing happened at all.

Except, Isak became more cautious around his mom, watching her with wide and frightful eyes. Lea began to do the same.

He didn’t want her to come into his room to read anymore, he didn’t want her to sing songs in the kitchen while they cooked brownies, he didn’t want her near him at all.

It wasn’t the same.

“Isak?” Lea’s voice cuts through his thoughts, making him drop his hand from his face and turn back to the girl beside him.

Lea’s eyes are droopy and red-rimmed and make Isak scoot closer to her on his bed. He wraps a protective arm around her small shoulders and lets out a deep sigh - his body completely spent.

Isak had rushed home as soon as he got the text from his sister. He didn’t know what was happening exactly but he knew what her text meant - _get home_. _Right now. It’s important._ Whether it was because of their mom or dad or a mix of both he didn’t know. But he knew he needed to be there for her.

Since the drugs, he’s gotten worse at being at home in general, but he’d never forget how to be there for Lea in an emergency.

Even had watched him with wide eyes and spoke with worried words as he gathered his things in haste and barely mumbled, “I have to go. It’s my sister,” before he practically ran out the door without a second thought - much like the first time he had left Even’s apartment.

He tried calling Lea several times on the way home but she didn’t answer. Each ring of the phone causing his anxiety to build and press heavily against the bones in his chest. The pressure in his body causing him to shake. People on the bus stared and one woman even took the time to ask if Isak was okay. He didn’t reply.

When he got to the house it was a disaster - a mess of broken glass and flipped tables and brand new rips running along the fabric of the ugly blue couch - but neither hurricane Anita or Tom were in sight.

Lea was sitting on Isak’s bed when he entered - silent tears running down her face - expression filled with tragedy. Isak knew that expression. He’s had it many times himself.

As soon as she seen her brother she reached out for him, hands grabbing and clinging to him as soon as they could, just like they were six and nine years old again.

She cried silently into his chest for awhile - Isak making sure he held onto her shaking frame tightly - whispering soothingly in her ear and petting down her soft blonde curls.

Now, he looks down into her sad green eyes, mirroring his own.

“What happened?” He asks, eyes running over her smooth pale skin thoroughly, looking for any traces of injury “You’re not hurt are you?”

Lea shakes her head - pulling away from her brother slightly. The room is hot and sticky and Lea’s face is flushed a bright red color. She sighs and runs her fingers through her knotted hair.

“I came home and things were already crazy,” She says in a calm wistful voice “Mamma was screaming and tearing up the couch with a knife. Pappa was trying to get her to calm down without getting too close to her first. I tried to sneak into my room but she already saw me. She didn’t know who I was and got scared.”

She pauses, her eyes falling closed, her voice isn’t sad or shaky. It’s dull and blank.

Isak knows what that’s like. To be so sad or scared or angry that suddenly you’re nothing at all. When the feelings rush through you too quickly and burn you like hot fire. When your heart starts to clench and your mind tells you to reject anything that comes your way.

It’s easy to be numb for the Valtersen siblings.

Lea scoots further away from Isak now, almost at the complete opposite side of his bed, and she wipes at her dry cheeks checking for any stray leftover water. Usually when this happens and the madness has settled and Lea’s tears have dried - she’ll pull away. She’ll apologize for wrinkling Isak’s shirt and let him know _‘she’s not a baby anymore’,_ when he asks her if she’s okay too many times for her liking. She gets embarrassed.

Isak doesn’t tell her that he secretly likes her company too in these situations - that he honestly doesn’t know what he’d do without her here. He likes being there for her, protecting her the best he can.

Lea sniffs - her nose clogged now “And uhm...she ran after me with the knife. Pappa had to tackle her to the floor. I came straight to your room after that. There was a lot more yelling and crashing and stuff but I locked the door. Apparently, Mamma thought I was an alien intruder.”

Isak nods - not speaking. There are no need for words anymore. They both know that. This is just how it is.

“I shouldn’t have texted...I’m sorry,” Lea sighs, turning her head towards her brother to smile just slightly. A sad smile. A familiar smile. “I just...you were the first person I thought of and I just- I don’t know I-”

“I’m glad you texted.” He tells her - meaning it.

She blinks up at him and then after a moment she nods.

“Thank you.”

“No problem kid,” Isak smiles the best he can, falling back heavily against his pillows, staring up at the ceiling above, Lea mirroring his action just a second later. “So, did he take her to the hospital or?”

It happens sometimes. When their mom is being violent like that, their dad has to take her to the hospital to be sedated. Nothing ever really comes from it. They’ve put her on a few 72 hour holds and tried to get her diagnosed but it never goes far. Tom doesn’t let it. As soon as the doctor’s start throwing around words and phrases like _mental illness_ and _diagnosis,_ Tom shuts everything down. Isak doesn’t know how he manages it but even after all these years Tom is in denial about his wife’s illness.

And Isak thought he was good at blocking out reality, but he has nothing on Tom.

It hasn’t happened in a few months, but sometimes Tome came home too drunk and too emotional, he would come into his son’s room, sit on the floor beside Isak’s bed, and sob like a child.

_She’s not crazy, Isak! She’s just a little lost._

Tom never remembered the next day and Isak never brought it up. Just another whispered secret here inside the Valtersen walls.

“I don’t know,” Lea answers, “probably. That or took her for a drive around Oslo. I just hope she’s sleeping when they get back. I still have homework to do.”

With that, Isak watches as his sister removes herself from his bed, making her way out his door. She yawns and rubs her eyes on the way – reminding Isak of when she was small and still let him tuck her into bed.

“Hey Lea?” He calls out to her, tucking his arms behind his head.

She turns back to him as she opens the door - the light from the hallway streaming into Isak’s dark room, making the tear marks on his sister’s face more visible, the dullness in her eyes more readable.

She raises her eyebrows, her lips pulling down, “Hmmm?”

“You sure you’re okay?” He knows she’s not, not really. She may be strong - a lot stronger than Isak - but she’s being ruined by this environment just like he is. It happens slowly but efficiently - taking more from you day by day.

Lea’s eyes roll and Isak can’t help but smile - catching a glimpse of his baby sister there. The one who wasn’t old enough to understand what was going on yet. The one that clung to Isak without hesitation or doubt or worry. The one who looked up to him like he was the best person she had ever known. Like he was her hero. The sister who told him she wanted to be just like him one day.

She was wise enough now to see that her brother was far from perfect. That he wasn’t even a good first choice to begin with. That he was cracked in one too many places.

“I’m not a baby anymore, Isak.” She recites her well-practiced words again, her lips pouting slightly,  “I’ll be just fine.”

Lea is really more like Isak than she thinks - stubborn, defensive, independent.

“I know you’re not a baby.” Isak replies, “but you’re still my little sister and I love you. Your bullshit is my bullshit remember? You want me to talk to you, don’t you? Well, I want you to talk to me too.”

Lea’s eyes soften at his words and she seems to relax a bit more, her lips letting go of the frown, she lets out a sigh and her body sags forward - like she had been using every ounce of her strength to hold herself upright.

“I love you too, Isak.”

Isak smiles as she closes the door behind him.

He closes his eyes, lets himself feel the throbbing in his head and the nag in his throat, he sniffs and stands.

He snorts five lines in his bathroom.

.

.

.

Isak tends to dream in color. Colors so vivid and expressive and beautiful that he wouldn’t be able to find the right words even if he tried to describe them.

The worlds inside of his head while he slept were always full of energy and life. Power and freedom. He could do anything and be anything without having to run away or escape. He could be himself there. There with the people he loved. The people he was capable of loving back.

His mom wasn’t crazy in his dreams.

His dad wasn’t drunk and angry.

His sister was always laughing and full of joy.

And he was safe. He wasn’t lonely, lost, and scared.

He wasn’t hurt.

Isak sometimes thinks his mind came up with this dream universe just to fuck with him. So that when he wakes up, reality comes barging forward, knocking him back ten times more than usual

But he doesn’t sleep anymore. Not really. The drugs don’t let him find that kind of peace often - the kind of peace they have to offer is much, much different.

Most nights he lays awake - either itching or craving or drugged out of his mind - unable to stay still or focus on one thought longer than a few seconds. This is one downfall - something that the drugs take away from him instead of give him.

He misses sleep. He misses it so damn much.

His eyes are wide and dry and red as he lays and stares at the bright phone screen in front of him. He doesn’t know how long he’s been staring at it but he can’t seem to look away. 

The time is blinking harshly at him, reading 00.43

Lea fell asleep a few hours ago and he heard his Mamma and Pappa come home shortly after. He pretended to be asleep when his dad peeked into his room. He smelled strongly of liquor and cigarette smoke and sadness.

It was quiet, except for the few words trailing across Isak’s screen, screaming at him in the darkness of his room, rushing through his mind powerfully.

 **Unknown:** _Hey, it’s Even. Is everything okay with your sister? You left so quickly. Let me know._

Isak’s eyes are sore from the light.

His body is numb.

_Beautiful._

That’s what Even had called him.

_Beautiful._

It had obviously been a mistake. Isak could tell by the look in the other boy’s eyes - startled by his own words - and the way he tried to take them quickly back.

But he had still said them.

Isak didn’t know what it meant. And in all honestly it probably didn’t really mean anything. Isak had a tendency to be a bit of an over-thinker.

But there was a part of his brain, the deeply buried, no good part that wondered if it had meant something.

Could Even _see_ it? Even’s stare was always so intense and never-changing. He looked at Isak like he could read his expressions perfectly, understand his thoughts. He spoke like he knew something about Isak’s life. It made Isak’s paranoia kick into overdrive. Could Even see the sickness inside of him?

Did Even think Isak _wanted_ to hear those words from him? Did he think that was something Isak would like? Was he taunting him? Just having a little fun?

The questions turned over and over inside of Isak’s head, rushing and rushing and rushing, one after the other - never-ending.

He had let his guard down with Even again. Without even realizing it - he let his weakness show again. He let himself talk about the stupid fucking universe and actually listened when Even rambled on and on about film and direction.

Even made him weak.

Way too weak.

Isak did a pretty good job of carrying the weight of his life on his shoulders - steadily and continuously. He walked slowly and stumbled a lot but he still managed to make it work. But not around Even. His body gave into the feeling of freedom around him - letting the weight on his shoulders bare down too harshly on him and cause the cracks in his already too-worn body and mind to worsen.

He couldn’t let Even see the sickness inside of him.

He didn’t know what it was about Even. What Even saw in him or what he wanted from him exactly. But he knew nothing good could come of it.

Maybe, to Even, Isak’s inside scars screamed just as loudly as the ones he had on the outside.

The reason really didn’t matter though, all that mattered was that it couldn’t happen. More importantly - Isak didn’t want it to happen. He didn’t want to be friends with Even. Being friends meant having to try to be a normal person. Try to connect with someone and let them connect with him.

Isak was going to ignore the fact that all those things weren’t so hard when it came to Even.

Because he didn’t want to be friends with him.

Not when Even’s smile made Isak wish he could heal. Not when his eyes made Isak believe that good things existed out there somewhere in this universe.

Not when Even reminded him of his colorful dreams.

Not when Event talked so beautifully about living and surviving and controlling life.

No, Even wasn’t his friend. He never would be.

No, once again, Isak doesn’t reply to Even’s text.

But this time - he does save his number, typing out the words firmly before hitting the save button -

**You’ll Regret This.**

Isak sighs, letting his eyes dance and trace invisible patterns on the ceiling above him.

He’s lonely.

He can feel the pressure of the emotion on his chest, stacked up, like block after block.

He’s texted Jonas a few times and receives no reply.

Each text sent about thirty minutes apart for the past three hours.

He knows he deserves the silent treatment. He supposes this is a taste of his own medicine - and for the first time Isak can taste how bitter it is and awful it feels going down. Jonas has never been able to hold out this long. He’ll pretend to give Isak the silent treatment. He’ll act upset and angry and roll his eyes. But he’s never hung up on his friend and he’s definitely never gone this long without replying to a text.

It’s scaring Isak.

He tries one last time, typing his message out slowly and with weak fingers.

 **Isak:** _Come on, man. Pls._

 **Isak:** _I just wanna talk_

Another twenty minutes pass before Jonas answers back.

 **Jonas:** _Just answer one question for me and then maybe we’ll talk._

Isak hesitates for only a moment, blinking slowly at the screen, confused and slightly scared for Jonas’ next words.

 **Isak:** _Ok_

 **Jonas:** _Are u high right now?_

Isak debates whether he should lie or not. It’s not like Jonas can hear the sound of his voice through text, or even if he did call - Isak’s high is fading now - growing dimmer and dimmer and he knows he’d be able to easily cover it up.

It would be so easy. 

But as his fingers hover above the keys - he can’t bring himself to type the little word. He lies every day of his life. He lies every minute. To everyone – even himself. But his heart skips a beat, his chest aches, at the thought of telling this lie right now.

He swallows thickly and feels his stomach roll as Jonas’ reply pops up a few moments later.

Apparently his pause was answer enough for his friend.

 **Jonas:** _Thought so. Goodnight, Isak._

Isak stares at the words for a long time - trying to keep his heartbeat calm as the feeling of dread in the center of his stomach begins to spread.

He’s never been truly scared of losing Jonas and, yeah, maybe that was stupid on his part. He’s always just assumed Jonas would be here, waiting for him, just like he always told Isak he would be. But Isak gets that there is only so much a person can take of someone like him. Someone so lost, so fucked up. Someone so stupid and selfish and destructive. He understands that even someone like Jonas, someone so kind and good and protective, someone who loves him, has their breaking point.

Isak has never been so terrified in his life. Not when his mom is wild and scary or his dad is angry and violent or when the memories come crashing into him - brutally honest.

His breath catches in his throat as the air in the room seems to become thicker and heavier.

He can’t lose Jonas. He can’t.

He doesn’t notice the water on his face until he feels a single tear slide over his cheek, across his ear, until it lands on the hot skin of his neck as he blinks up at the screen still. The sobs begin to roll through his chest and he turns onto his side – hiding his face in his pillow, muffling the noises he makes.

He never meant to be so selfish. Not with Jonas at least.

All the bullshit apologies he’s thrown at his best friend over the years - it’s a miracle he’s even still around for Isak to lose anyway.

The lies and excuses roll so easily off of his tongue by now – second nature.

He never meant to be so… _fake_.

But that’s what he is now. Fake. Someone put together with carefully constructed stories and hidden secrets. Someone made up completely of false statements and make believe.

When he looks back at the screen of his phone – Even’s text is still screaming at him.

He thinks of the bullshit apology he gave Even earlier, too.

He meant it, to an extent, he really didn’t mean to call Even crazy. He didn’t believe that. He was just angry and on the defensive. He said stupid shit like that all the time. He was fucked up like that.

But he also knows that if he went back to relived the moment - he would probably still do it all over again. He would say those mean, hurtful things to Even just because he could. Because he felt so fucking mean and hurt on the inside. And he didn’t know any other way to make it stop.  

Even thought he wanted to be friends with Isak - but he didn’t.

He wouldn’t if he knew anything about the real Isak at all.

Isak finally looks away from his phone, placing it down beside him on the bed and wiping his tears away roughly, feeling stupid and childish and so fucking alone.

He gets up and shuffles through the drawer of his end table - finding the hidden gift he was saving for tomorrow.

He locks himself in his bathroom and snorts four more lines.

Sleep won’t come any time soon tonight either.

.

.

.

“His name is Isak.”

Even can’t help the small smile already spreading across his face as he says the boy’s name. He can’t help the images already flashing through his mind of sharp yet soft cheekbones, dark eyebrows and cherry-stained delicate looking lips, the cutest chin dimple and the way he licks his lips before he speaks about something meaningful. He loves the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when his smile is genuine.

Even admits that he might be a little smitten already.

He’s only fifteen minutes into his therapy session and he couldn’t resist bringing Isak up. He had to get it off his chest.

He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about him or the conversation they had yesterday.

Even knows that it’s probably a bad idea to get involved with Isak. He’s small and lost and Even is just learning how to cope and be on his own.

But he can’t help how he feels around the younger boy - so intense and protective. He can’t help the way he just wants to talk to him for hours, ask him questions, understand the way his unique mind works things out. He wants to be able to crawl inside Isak’s brain and settle and just see it for a moment. He wants to know his secrets and he wants Isak to trust Even to hold onto them and keep them safe for him.

Even never really was a rational thinker. He tends to be a bit impulsive.

Dr. Wilson sits across from him and smiles fondly as she twirls her pen through her fingers and pops her pink bubble gum. She’s a petite woman with rich brown eyes and even richer brown hair. She’s charming and beautiful and is the best listener Even has ever met - whether she gets paid to do so or not. She has an open mind and loves to chat about movies with Even when he doesn’t feel like talking about his feelings.

She’s also English and her Norwegian is surprisingly great after only living in Oslo full time for six months.

“Isak?”

Even nods, picking at the fabric of the chair beneath him, his eyes downcast shyly.

Dr. Wilson’s office is quiet and cozy and makes Even feel at ease. The room echoes with a constant buzz that vibrates through his bones and all of the furniture in the room is a soft foam green color.

“Yeah, he’s…” Even pauses, not knowing how to even begin to explain Isak or how Even began to form this crush. “He’s a boy at my new school.”

“What’s he like?” Dr. Wilson asks, her voice laced with its usual kindness.

They’ve already talked about Even liking boys. Dr. Wilson is one of the very first people Even _officially_ came out to. He’d looked her straight in the eye after he stayed up all the night before doing hours of research on sexuality and love and relationships and the “gray area”.

It was quick and simple and to the point.

_“I think I might be pansexual.”_

_“Okay.”_

_“Because...I like girls but I also like boys but I also don’t really care much about labels or gender or a person’s sex. I just...I read the definitions and I think pansexuality fits the way that I feel the best. Uhm, I think, I want to do more research but sexuality isn’t really a black and white thing so I think I have time.”_

_“Okay.”_

_“So, yeah. Pansexual.”_

_“And how do you feel about that?”_

_“I think I’m okay with it.”_

_“That’s really good to hear, Even.”_

And now he’s here telling her he likes a boy.

A lot of words come to Even’s mind when he thinks about the grouchy second year.

_Secretive. Shy. Grumpy. Skittish. Beautiful. Lonely. Lost. Intriguing._

“I think he’s sad.” He says simply, lifting his eyes to meet hers steadily, almost like he’s challenging her. Daring her to say something about it.

Her dark, thick eyebrows raise, able to pick up on Even’s intent immediately, she nods, “Interesting.”

“What is?”

“That that’s the first word that came to mind.”

Even slouches against the chair and lets out a sigh. It isn’t the first word that came to his mind, it’s just the first word that he said out loud - but Dr. Wilson already knows this.

They both know what he’s doing already.

Dr. Wilson decides that directness is the best approach in situations like this, when Even is so overwhelmed by the feelings that flow through him, so lost in the mashed up pile of thoughts in his mind that he just wants it to stop. When self-doubt weighs heavily on his shoulders – so heavily that he can barely breathe under it’s weight. When he wants her to give him all the answers. Just tell him what he should do.

Even still doesn’t trust his own choices fully.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do or how you should feel, Even.”

Even nods, he already expected this answer, “Sana doesn’t think he’s a good idea.”

“And what do you think?”

The corners of Even’s lips turn up slightly. This is one of his favorite things about Dr. Wilson. Her willingness to not only listen to Even’s thoughts but actually see his point of view and try to understand it. No matter how manic or depressed or completely stable he was inside of his brain. She treated every single mood the same.

When Even was depressed - hiding away for weeks at a time, unable to move or speak - or when Even was manic - talking way too fast, ideas rushing a mile a minute, unable to make sense to the rational mind - people tended to blow him off. They acted like anything he was doing or feeling or saying at the time was just “part of the illness”, just “some sick idea” and if he brought it up later they would brush it off - acting like it never happened. Like, for some reason, his thoughts suddenly couldn’t be his own, they couldn’t be real - just because he was in a up or down swing. His illness affects how you act and feel, sure, but it didn’t mean you couldn’t think for yourself at all anymore. That just wasn’t true. And Dr. Wilson is slowly but surely trying to teach him that.

He always felt so insignificant when he tried to talk to people about his feelings. They danced around the awkward stuff and avoided the sad stuff all together. And it made Even feel like he couldn’t completely be himself with them anymore. They were trying to avoid a part of him. Bipolar Disorder doesn’t define Even as a person - never did and never will - but it is a big part of his life and why he is the way he is.

Who knows, maybe in one of Isak’s alternate universes, Even doesn’t have this particular chemical imbalance, but that makes him dull and boring and causes him to have nothing this unique to offer the world.

Even still has his doubts – he has a lot of them. He’s used to people talking _for_ him instead of _to_ him. He’s used to people telling him how he should feel instead of asking him how he really does.

His mom and dad are getting better at it, talking to him, listening, and not just assuming, but that is still one of the biggest problems he has with people when it comes to how they handle knowing about his illness.

Especially with himself.

Even starts over, “He’s...quiet but thoughtful. I think he has a lot of secrets and not a lot of people he can talk to about them. He’s quite beautiful and smart from what I can tell and he’s a little cranky.” Even laughs “He’s lonely. And he’s sad.” He pauses, trying to find the right words for his next thought, he swallows thickly and doesn’t shy away from Dr. Wilson’s intense but soft stare, “I’m scared of him.”

Dr. Wilson doesn’t flinch, she just leans forward, her dark locks falling softly on her shoulders, “Scared of him?” She questions.

Even inhales deeply - not really knowing how to find the words.

“Or…no…” He looks down at the old carpet beneath his feet. His stomach feels warm and his chest feels light. He continues, “I’m not scared of him. I guess I’m more scared of how he makes me feel. I just…I’ve been doing so well and I don’t want anything to ruin that. Fuck up my progress, you know?”

When Even’s eyes meet Dr. Wilson’s again, she looks thoughtful and calm, she nods and smiles ever so lightly.

“Even,” She says patiently, “Nothing and no one has the power to fuck up your progress unless you let them. Only you have control over you. Only you can feel what you feel. Don’t let your fear of something stop you from trying to be happy.” Her smile widens as she continues, “You’ve come so far and you are in such a good place. You’re stable and on your medication. I think maybe it’s time for some adventure and maybe this Isak…maybe he’s your adventure.”

Even smiles kindly back at his therapist. She’s right. He deserves a little happy. He remembers what it's like being where Isak is right now - alone, afraid, isolated. He wished a million times that he could have someone to talk to - to tell him that there was a future worth hanging in there for. Maybe he could be that person for Isak, maybe not, but he wouldn't know unless he tried.

 “I texted him last night and he never answered though.”

Dr. Wilson lets out a loud feminine chuckle and sits back in her chair casually – popping her bubblegum loudly and crossing her long, pale legs.

“Well, yeah,” She keeps her smile high and wide “That’s men for you.”

Even laughs along with her – feeling giddy and confident in his final decision.

He’s was going to get to know Isak Valtersen. He was going to be his friend, just like they agreed. Good or bad idea be damned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! No cliffhanger this time! Thoughts? Predictions? Feelings? Let me know below!


	9. The Boy in the Red Snapback

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! 
> 
> So, I'm going to start off by saying that I'm a little nervous about this chapter. I'm not used to writing so much in Even's pov and I definitely think Isak's pov is my comfort zone. So, this was really challenging for me. But also exciting and intriguing because Even's pov is so important to the progress of the story & the development of their relationship. I just hope it didn't come out like complete shit :)
> 
> Thank you all for your kind words and holy shit I can't believe this story has over 300 kudos! I'm so humbled<3\. 
> 
> Like always please ignore editing errors. I'm a lazy editor that still sucks.
> 
> WARNING: brief mentions of a suicide attempt! It's not graphic but it is pretty intense and includes some imagery.

_._

_._

 

_._

 

_"Having a soft heart in a cruel world is courage, not weakness."_

 

_......_

_It was a gray and cloudy day – the darkness rolling over Norway in waves as the time ticked on slowly – minute by excruciatingly slow minute._

_Even’s chest hurt. It felt heavy and empty, just like the large clouds outside his window looked._

_A nurse came around a few minutes ago to open the curtains for him so he could “get some light”. She also left a bowl of broccoli cheddar soup and some water for when he got hungry. He didn’t bother thanking her or telling her that, no, he wouldn’t be getting hungry._

_Instead he stared out at the foggy air of Oslo and let himself be present in his pain._

_He closes his eyes and welcomes the darkness that he finds there – the silence of the room is comforting to him. He likes being alone here. Especially since he got to the hospital. It’s been non-stop interaction with the doctors and nurses. Non-stop questions being thrown his way about how he feels and why he did what he did. Non-stop tears from his mother and father. Non-stop stares all ranging from sympathetic and filled with pity to very uncomfortable._

_His friends came to visit yesterday. He knew they were scheduled to come but he was still surprised when they showed up – suddenly there in his small white room, standing in a gaggle made up of awkward shuffles and uncomfortable coughs. It was weird seeing them after Even had made the decision to never see them, or anyone, ever again. A decision and plan that had failed of course. It was weird to still be alive when you were so sure your life was finally going to be over._

_Elias tried to engage the most out of the boys. He asked stupid questions that he thought would make Even laugh, like how hot the nurses were and if he’s gotten a sponge bath yet. Even could appreciate the effort. Hell, a month ago, even maybe a week ago, Even_ would _have laughed at Elias’ dumb jokes. He would have rolled his eyes and told his best friend how stupid and cliché he was. But not now. Not anymore. Even barely lifted his head or made any effort to show he was listening to his friend at all as he rambled on._

_He was too distracted._

_He was distracted by the way his friends looked at him. They looked at him differently now. A new kind of way – somewhat distant, somewhat afraid. He saw Mikael’s eyes run over his bandaged arms with a cautious hesitance, he noticed the way Adam grimaced whenever Even made eye contact and how he tried to cover it up with a smile. Youself didn’t even look his way at all, choosing instead to stare pointedly at the dirty tiles beneath his feet._

_He knew it then. That things would be different. That his friends – no matter how much they cared about him, no matter how much they wanted things to go back to normal – they couldn’t handle this._

_Truth be told, Even wasn’t even that upset about it. He understood. He couldn’t really handle any of it either. He could barely handle his own thoughts half the time. They over powered any kind of strength he had left inside of himself. He couldn’t expect his friends to be able to handle that kind of shit. It was his own problem._

_And that’s why he did what he did a few nights ago. In the quiet steadiness of his parent’s bathroom. Alone with nothing but his thoughts and fears and determination. He has never really thought about the afterlife or what happens when you die until that very moment when he held the sharp shiny razor to his bare flesh._

_But he had made peace with not knowing right now. And he wanted to find out. Curious and ready._

_He felt the throbbing in his chest begin to disappear with each slice to his skin. He felt like he was floating away. Away to somewhere peaceful. Away from the dangers and misery of his own mind. Away from everything that hurt._

_And then he heard the screaming start._

_“Halla.”_

_Even jumps slightly at the unexpected voice and turns, looking away from the depressing view from his window, to find the last person he was expecting standing at his doorway._

_Sana Bakkoush – Elias’ younger sister._

_Even doesn’t reply. He just stares._

_Sana is wearing all black, her hijab fit snuggly around her face, and a large blue duffle bag thrown over her shoulder. Her body is small but her presence is big. She commands the room, and Even’s attention._

_“You know,” She says casually, not looking away from Even’s sad eyes. “They checked this bag before they let me bring it in here. First time I’ve ever been searched at a hospital.” She chuckles “I guess they had to check it for sharp objects or something.”_

_Even’s brows furrow – not really understanding the point of Sana’s words._

_“Did you come here with Elias or something?” Even asks after a beat, ready to tell her to leave and take Elias with her. He wasn’t in the mood for company today. None of the nurses told him he had visitors on the schedule._

_“Nei” Sana tells him simply, shrugging her shoulders “Just me today.”_

_When she doesn’t elaborate further, Even just shakes his head in exasperation. Sana and he aren’t friends. Not really. He says hello to her whenever he’s hanging out with Elias and the boys at their house but that’s it. Even can think of two times total they’ve had a conversation that lasted longer than five minutes. Sana was always friendly and sweet but Even didn’t really consider her more than an acquaintance. His best friend’s quiet little sister who kept to herself most of the time._

_“Okay…”_

_Sana just smiles – her lips covered in a rich dark lipstick._

_“I brought my laptop” She says, still smiling – her smile reminded Even of a brilliant golden color “I figured we could watch a movie or something. I know you’re into films. I’ve heard you talk about it with the boys. I asked Elias what your favorite movie was but the dumbass never pays attention so Mikael helped me out.”_

_Even just stares on blankly._

_“He said you once told him that your favorite director was Baz Luhrman so I looked up his movies. There was no way I was going to sit here and watch Romeo + Juliet so I picked something called Moulin Rouge. I’m assuming you’ve seen it? Never heard of it but it has to be better than some cheesy love story about teenagers.”_

_She walks over to Even’s bedside and begins to unpack her duffle bag – laptop, movie, a small blanket for herself. She moves Even’s food tray aside and begins to start up her computer._

_“You should really eat that soup,” She says as she sits down in the chair beside him “It would be a real waste not to.”_

_Even continues to stare blankly at her. He catches a whiff of her subtle vanilla body spray and watches as she puts the DVD in._

_He’s surprisingly relaxed even with her presence. He usually feels himself become stiff and uncomfortable when someone comes into his room – even the nurses and doctors. He’s sad and self-conscious and hates their curious stares._

_Except – Sana isn’t asking any questions about the hospital or how Even is feeling or what happened that night. She isn’t trying to make Even smile or talk to her. She’s just…sitting. She’s just being and letting Even just be in return. She sets up the movie quietly and doesn’t seem bothered by the silence in the room. And she hasn’t glanced at Even’s arms one single time._

_“Why are you really here, Sana?” Even asks quietly. His voice isn’t mean or frustrated sounding – just genuinely curious as to why she’s here._

_Sana shrugs, pulling a bag of chips from her bag, letting her eyes lift and meet Even’s._

_They’re wide and rich and expressive._

_“Honestly,” She answers truthfully “I’m not really sure. Elias told me about the visit yesterday. Said you didn’t laugh at his stupid jokes or whatever and I figured instead of explaining what he did wrong to him and telling him what he should do…I would just do it myself.” She finishes with a firm nod and a slight smile gracing her darkly stained lips._

_Her explanation was so simple, like it_ should _be the most obvious thing in the world that her next rational step would be coming to visit a mentally ill boy in the hospital after a failed suicide attempt. Normal people didn’t think like that. They avoided all things that were awkward or dark or sad. They avoided people like Even._

 _That’s when Even first saw Sana. He didn’t just meet her in passing and write her off as Elias’ younger sister. He_ saw her _. And she was one of the most beautiful things Even had ever seen. Her heart was the biggest that Even had ever encountered at that point. Her eyes the softest and most caring he had ever known._

_For the first time in what felt like an eternity – Even smiled. It was faint and small and barely there. But he felt it. And Sana saw it._

_“So,” She raises her eyebrows in question “Shall we watch?”_

_Even doesn’t hesitate as he nods._

_And they spend the rest of the evening like that – passing the bag of chips back and forth – watching Even’s favorite movies._

_Sana doesn’t look down at his arms once or ask a single question yet._

_And for that one evening – Even forgets just how sad he is at all._

_Even eats his soup halfway through the third film._

.

 

.

 

.

Watching the sunrise is one of Even’s favorite things to do. It reminded him of all the fresh starts and new possibilities waiting on the other side of the day. When the sun peeked through the morning clouds first thing – he remembered why he wanted to keep trying.

It took a while for him to get to this place – a place where he enjoyed the new start to each day, like wiping the slate clean and smiling for this moment, even if everything yesterday went horrible wrong, was the best part of waking up. A place where he viewed the possibilities as something good instead of something dark and dull and pointless.

He remembers a time when he hated the sunrise, when it reminded him of nothing but how broken he was and how nothing mattered to him – not even himself. How all he wanted to do was die.

Now he sits – a small smile on his lips, a fresh cup of tea in hand, watching the light orange and yellow colors paint the sky so beautifully as the sun peeks above the hills – and he can’t help but feel thankful. So thankful to be sitting here alive with nothing but chances and possibilities in his hand.

His phone chirps from across the room, pulling him away from his thoughts, and walks over and smiles when he sees a familiar name.

 **Sana:** _Good Morning Mr. Bech N_ _æsheim_.

 **Even:** _Good morning Ms. Bakkoush. How are we this morning?_

Sana has been very clingy and protective ever since Isak came over the other day. She’s been unusually noisy and pushy but it’s okay, because Even understands why. She’s worried about him.

Sana has been by his side through his whole recovery. She’s watched him pick himself up and put himself back together. She’s watched him stumble and fall and fail and give up before starting over and trying again. She’s watched his mind mend the same as the deep cuts on his arms began to heal and repair. She’s seen how hard he’s worked to get where he is right now. And she doesn’t want to see that progress wiped away by something so small and silly.

Even wishes he could just show Sana his thoughts and feelings for a moment. He wishes he could let her inside of his mind for just a second so she can see just how unnecessary her worry is.

Sana did a lot of research on Bipolar Disorder when she and Even had first started hanging out more. She knew all the textbook lingo and cases. She knew that high risk behavior was a sign of a manic episode and that high-risk behavior could also _trigger_ a manic episode. And according to his best friend – wanting to get to know her biology partner was high risk behavior.

But no matter how much she reads or researches – she’s never going to understand what it’s like to be inside the mind of someone with the illness. And that’s okay. Even doesn’t want her to ever be able to fully understand. She shouldn’t have to.

He can feel it though. He’s stable and he’s ready for this. He’s ready to start living a life that isn’t just focused on getting better and staying balanced. He’s ready to experience new things.

He’ll probably fail a few times. Get hurt. But that’s okay too.

Sana didn’t have to think this was a good idea. Even was already sure enough for the both of them.

He tried to tell her about what Dr. Wilson had said about adventure and how this could be a good thing for Even.

Sana just rolled her eyes and replied snippily, “Just because she’s helped you and has a PHD doesn’t mean she can’t also give obvious dumb advice.”

Even had changed the subject after that.

 **Sana:** _Good! Just wanted to let you know I’m not going to be in school today. My mom’s sick and she needs someone to go to the doctors with her. Elias has work so I said I’d go. I haven’t used up any of my 10% so I’m fine to miss a day._

Even lets out a happy chuckle.

Sana’s kindness is one of the things he loves the very most about her. And he loves that no matter how cranky she gets or how guarded she is around people – she can never truly hide this part of herself – because it’s the biggest and best part of all.

 **Even** : _Careful Sana if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were a sweet person._

 **Sana:** _Shut the hell up, Even._

 **Even:** _;)_

Even pauses before clicking out of his messages – staring down at the phone silently, biting his lip and sighing.

He still hasn’t received a reply from Isak. The other boy’s number was saved safely away in his phone. He scrolls through his contacts every night – somewhat pathetically – just to stare at the name for a while and imagine what it would be like to see it pop up in his message notifications.

**Isak aka The Boy in the Red Snapback**

It’s what Even called Isak in his mind for months before he found out who he was. When he would just stare at the boy from across the school yard before classes started in amazement as the morning sun hit his face just the right way, highlighting his features delicately, hoping the other boy would look back.

There was something about the way the sunlight caught Isak’s eyelashes and his high cheekbones that drove Even wild. Excitement always bloomed in his stomach when it was a particularly sunny morning for that reason.

He re-reads the message he sent a few nights ago for the millionth time and then lets his eye linger on the white space beneath his text. It screams its emptiness so loudly back.

He lets out a sigh before he places his phone down, not letting himself think too much, get discouraged before the day even starts. He makes his way to the kitchen, quickly taking his medicine, before he starts to get ready for school - filled with both excitement and dread at today's possibilities. 

.

 

.

 

.

 

He has a plan. It’s not the best plan in the world. It’s not well thought out or completely ready to be executed but it’s a plan in any case.

He spots the second-year boys across the cafeteria pretty quickly – they’re the loudest ones in the place. Not in an obnoxious way though, more endearing than anything, Even thinks. They look like the kind of people you want to be around. Maybe a little lame and a little dorky – but fun and happy.

It’s just the three of them there. Even hasn’t seen Isak once today and Even has made it a point to pass Isak’s locker on his way to class several times just to make sure he wasn’t there. Even though that meant taking the long way to each one of his classes and being several minutes late.

Even takes one final breath to steady himself – thankful Sana wasn’t there to talk him out of this obviously stupid idea – and begins to walk across the room towards the small round table in the corner where the boys are scattered.

He tries to keep his back straight and his strides confident as he approaches. Even has always been a people person, good at first impressions and great at friendship, but his nerves are making it hard for him to concentrate on his thoughts or figure out what he should say first.

_Here goes nothing._

When he stops at the edge of the table three pairs of very confused eyes are immediately on him. They’re not mean or guarded gazes – just unsure.

He runs through all the possible things he could say – maybe just a simple hello, maybe he should start with his name, maybe ask a question to break the ice? He could pretend he still doesn’t know his way around to school and ask where something is.

Even is so wrapped up in his thoughts that he doesn’t realize it’s too late – it’s already awkward.

He hasn’t said anything to greet them yet and eventually the blonde boy to his left speaks first – “Uhm, hello?” His voice rises in question. His eyes are wide and his gaze is questioning. His cheeks are stained pink.

“Halla,” Even finally greets – making sure his smile is high and wide and happy. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his favorite jean jacket and rocks on his heels. “I’m Even.”

There’s a pause.

Awkward and settled.

So, maybe a little bit more preparation wouldn’t have hurt him.

“Uhm, hi?” Jonas speaks this time – the only one Even has a name to put to.

He’s heard about Jonas. He’s one of those people that other people just _like_. It’s not one thing you can pinpoint – but it’s _something_. He’s got an aura about him that people seem to be drawn to. He’s heard girls in the hall talk about how cute and funny he his. He’s heard boys in the bathroom talk about his “sweet tricks” down at the skate park.

And he knows that Jonas is Isak’s best friend.

“Can we help you?” The boy on the end asks. He’s wearing a backwards baseball cap and has kind eyes.

Even shrugs, “Just thought I’d come by and say hi” He tells them somewhat honestly “I’m sort of new here and only really have one friend and she’s out today.”

Even nods to himself. Direct and to the point – one of Even’s favorite ways to approach his problems.

Even waits patiently while the boys exchange silent looks with one another – not sure what to do.

For a moment, he thinks they’re going to laugh in his face and send him away.

Until the blonde one shrugs and pulls the seat beside him out, for the third year “Fuck it. Isak decided to bail on us again so I guess we’re in need of a fourth person. I’m Magnus.”

Even smiles and lets out a small breath – one he didn’t know he was holding.

He tries to ignore the way his heart squeezes at the mention of their friend’s name. He has to bite his lip to keep himself from blurting out one of his many burning questions, just wanting to know where the boy is, if he’s okay, what happened with his sister.

More than Isak not texting him back – Even had been genuinely worried about him. The look in his eyes before he bolted out the door was one of pure panic, pure fear. He mumbled something about his sister before literally running away from Even and out of his apartment. Even had debated for himself for several minutes, wondering if he should go after the other boy, but in the end, he decided to just send the text.

“Isak?” He asks simply instead.

The blonde boy – Magnus – nods before taking a bite of his sandwich and not bothering to chew and swallow completely before he answers, “Yeah, he’s our other friend. But he’s fucking lame so you don’t have to worry about it. That’s Mahdi and Jonas by the way.”

Even smiles at the other two boys’.

Mahdi rolls his eyes at his friend before continuing eating himself.

Jonas’ eyes are still on Even – slightly questioning and a little cautious. Even wonders if Jonas is anything like Sana when it comes to protecting his best friend. He wonders if Jonas has noticed just how lost Isak truly is and if he’s trying to do anything about it. Jonas’ eyes are soft and kind looking – light brown and calming. But Even knows just how easy it is to hide behind a deceiving gaze. He’s done it a million times himself.

“If he’s so lame why do you hang out with him?” Even questions, trying to keep to conversation on Isak, and in the direction he wants it to go.

He looks around the table with his eyebrows raised.

“He’s not really lame” Mahdi chimes in “Just…”

“Grumpy as shit” Magnus finishes for him, peanut butter smeared across his bottom lip messily, “It’s like he’s in a permanent bad mood or something. God knows why though…all he does is smoke weed and fuck girls. You think he’d be the happiest seventeen year old alive. I know I would be.”

Even nods – almost charmed by the boy beside him. His carelessness is quite endearing.

“Girls and weed, huh?” Even laughs as Magnus nods enthusiastically – not really sure how to feel about that description of Isak. It doesn’t match the one he has in his mind about the boy. The boy with sadness boiling underneath the hardness in his bright green eyes. The boy who thinks about parallel universes and has more secrets than any one person should be carrying. The boy who makes Even’s stomach fill with lightness and warmth.

“Yeah,” He continues, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, making the mess on his face even worse, “He gets all the girls. It’s not fucking fair, man. I mean…I’m better looking than him and I can’t even get a girl to look at me. What the fuck?”

“It’s because he’s chill.” Mahdi tells him.

“I’m chill!” Magnus shoots back defensively. There’s peanut butter on his chin now.

“Oh, please” Mahdi rolls his eyes dramatically and smiles brightly “You’re the least chill person I know. You act desperate around girls. It’s a turn off.”

“I’m a turn off!?”

Even’s smile stays in place, eyes bouncing back and forth between the second years beside him, amused and happy at how natural the conversation flows.

This is nice. Being around this kind of atmosphere again. Even hasn’t really spoken to the Bakka boys since he left. They’ll shoot him a message on Facebook from time to time to see how he’s doing and Sana says Elias asks about him occasionally. But he’s missed this. Being around guy friends who talk about stupid things that no one really cares about. Simple, easy, fun.

“…oh, come on! Fuck you, Mahdi I do not!” Even catches the end of Magnus’ sentence.

He can’t help the laugh that falls from his lips.

“Isak just doesn’t give a shit” Jonas adds from across the table, his eyes downcast, curls falling carelessly into his face, as he speaks softly, “That’s why he’s able to be so chill. He doesn’t give a shit about anything.”

Even watches Jonas carefully as he glances up from the table. His eyes don’t give much away but Even still can’t help but feel like there is some kind of hidden meaning behind the boy’s words. His eyes are somber and there is a strong melancholy tone laced through his voice as he speaks. Even’s always been good at reading between the lines. He’s observant, he pays attention.

Even tilts his head, leaning all the way back in his chair, before asking curiously, “Well, he must care about _something_ , surely, he can’t just not care at all. Right?”

Jonas doesn’t look away – his eyes remaining focused and still. The emotions that dance behind his gaze are hidden well.

Even feels his heart begin to beat a little faster – practically waiting on his toes for Jonas’ reply – not knowing what to expect.

He feels his face heat.

In the end, Jonas just shrugs and offhandedly replies, “He probably does. He just doesn’t show it…and that’s why he’s always so fucking grumpy.”

Jonas breaks the stare then as he pulls his eyes away from Even’s sharply. Done with the game.

“Also, why he gets all the pussy he wants.” Magnus adds. “Oh! Speaking of…have you seen that new third year? What’s her name? Really tall but like…in a hot way. So fucking hot.”

“Oh yeah! The brunette, right? Oh, shit I forget her name. I’ve seen her around though. Duuuuude,” Mahdi laughs.

Even continues to stare at Jonas as the boys move the conversation along. The brunette isn’t look back. He stares off sadly in the opposite direction, not really hearing any of his friend’s words, much like Isak usually does most of the time.

Jonas’ expression is gloomy and distant – like he’s lost deeply in thought.

All Even wants to do is ask him - _what happened? I know that look is about Isak…what happened?_

But he stays quiet – pretending to be interested in the conversation happening around him.

By the time the bell rings, signaling the end of lunch, Even has all the boy’s numbers saved in his phone and has been invited to a party being thrown tonight by a first year named Emma.

He smiles and tells Magnus he’ll think about it before bumping fists with all three of them and heading to his next class.

.

 

.

 

.

“I think this is a bad idea, Even.”

Even rolls his eyes – adjusting the collar to his button-up in the mirror and smoothing his hands over the wrinkles in the fabric – he chuckles lightly.

“You think everything is a bad idea” 

“Not everything, Just the ideas you come up with” Sana tells him evenly – slightly playful but also slightly serious “You just happen to have really awful ideas all the time.”

He had made the mistake of telling her about his lunch with the boys and the party tonight.

“I’m just going to stop by and see if he’s there.” He tells her, running a hand through his gelled hair, trying to find the perfect balance between messy and styled.

“And if he is there?” Sana questions.

“I’m going to talk to him.”

“Even,” Sana sighs “You don’t even know if he likes boys. He just seems like…I think you’re going to end up regretting this.”

“Maybe” Even agrees “guess I’ll just have to find that out.”

Sana’s quiet for a while. Her breathing is calm and steady on the other side of the phone. Even can practically hear her thoughts racing on the other side.

He moves around his apartment hastily as he gathers up everything he needs – his keys, some money for the bus, his wallet. He sprays himself with some cheap cologne he found at the back of his closet.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.” Sana finally tells him – her voice filled with care.

Even’s lips turn up, comforted by her concern, and he nods to himself.

“I know,” He says “I don’t want to get hurt either but…I also don’t want to sit back and let opportunities pass me by because I’m scared or I might get hurt or might have an episode. I’m…I’m okay, Sana. I promise I’ll be careful.” 

He tries to convey his honesty the best he can through his words.

She only sighs back gingerly in return, “Okay, Even.”

 

.

 

.

The house is already packed with bodies wall to wall when Even arrives. The music is loud and stifling and the walls around him shake with the thump of the bass.

He texted the boys to let them know he was here but hasn’t gotten a reply yet. He wonders if they’re already here drunk somewhere and he should just look around or if he should try calling one of them. He thinks about even texting Isak to see if he’s around here somewhere.

His shoulders collide with a few people’s as they pass him obnoxiously without a single glance. His body rocks back and forth as it’s pulled and pushed through the crowd around him. He makes his way through the house steadily – trudging through the hallway, the den, the kitchen, and into another living room. The house is big and expensive looking. The air in the room is hot and sticky and the people are way too close.

He debates just turning around and heading home, but then he sees him, small and alone. Even’s never really appreciated his height until now as he’s able to tower over the tipsy teenagers around him to find what he’s been looking for.

Isak is a few feet away – sitting on one of the many couches scattered across the den. He’s in his usually get up – a t-shit and baggy hoodie and his red snapback fit snuggly over his course blond curls. He’s looking down as he traces the rim of his beer bottle again and again with his fingertip. Even automatically begins to push his way through the crowd, his previous movement now more demanding, as he makes his way towards his intended destination.

He notices several burnt out blunts in the ashtray beside the boy as he stops in front of him. The air around him smelling strongly of the drug. Even feels his nervousness catch in his throat and wishes that he smoked a little before he left his apartment.

It takes a while for Isak to notice someone is standing in front of him, waiting, but when he does he glances up slowly. His eyes are slightly red and glazed over from his high. His eyelids are heavy and slanted and his lips are shiny, wet, and parted. He blinks slowly up at Even and doesn’t speak. 

Even can’t imagine how but Isak seems to get more and more beautiful each time he sees him. Every time he sees the boy again he finds something new about him, something he has no idea how he missed before – this time it’s a small freckle planted right next to Isak’s chin dimple. It’s small and light in color and Even would have never noticed it if he wasn’t watching the younger boy so intently.

Isak's eyes are so easy to get lost in. They remind Even of summer time freeness and late night conversations and gentle things from his memories. 

He has to take a deep breath and seal himself tightly so he doesn’t have a slip up like last time – letting himself say something stupid and careless like call Isak _that_   _word_ out loud.

“Even?” Isak asks, his mind working at a slower pace as he finally seems to recognize the person in front of him. His voice is soft and low. It’s cute and it makes Even smile. “What are you doing here?”

“Magnus invited me” He replies.

“Magnus?” Isak’s eyebrows furrow adorably, the skin between them scrunching up tightly, his lips pulling back in surprise, “How the fuck do you know Magnus?”

Even’s eyes run over the flush of Isak’s cheeks and he wants to reach out to feel the warmth there.

“I met him today. You weren’t in school.” He points out.

Isak shrugs, and scoffs like…. _duh_ , while bringing his beer to his lips, Even’s eyes focus on the way the soft pink wraps around the edge of the bottle so nicely. He swallows thickly and pulls his collar. The air in the room is way too hot.

“Had things to do.”

And then Isak looks away – like he’s done with the conversation completely. He turns his head and tilts his chin up. His eyes begin to close as he breaths deeply and steadily through his nose.

Even pretends not to be good at social cues.

He plops down carelessly next the other boy with a loud grunt and a smile. He tosses his arms behind himself, over the back of the couch, and laughs as Isak startles and looks over to him in surprise – like it would be that easy to get rid of him.

“What are you doing?” He asks, truly perplexed.

“Sitting.” Even replies simply.

He waits, watching the wheels turn in Isak’s head as he decides how he’s going to proceed. Even thinks he’s going to like this game of cat and mouse.

“Is there something about the current vibe I’m sending that would suggest I want to talk to you?” Isak asks – speaking slowly and clearing – as if he was addressing a small child. “Because if so I think you need to work on your people reading skills.”

Even knows that the boy’s words should offend him, but instead, he lets out a laugh.

“Yeah, I guess I’m just bad at that.” He replies, laughing one more time, before his lip pull up into a smirk.

Isak shakes his head, raising his eyebrows before opening his mouth to speak again –

“I know, I know,” Even cuts him off “I laugh too much.”

Isak stares for a moment. His eyes are richer looking in the dark lighting, appearing more mossy than bright. He shakes his head before turning his face away again and taking another sip of his drink.

Even admires the boy’s profile and the sharp angles of his jaw as he replies airily, “You never answered my text.”

“You really like to point out the obvious, don’t you?”

“I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, well, most people would take that as a hint.”

“I’m not most people.”

Even watches as Isak takes another gulp of his drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing, his neck pale and long and almost completely free of bruises now.

“I thought we agreed to be friends.” Even says eventually.

Not that Even isn’t enjoying this back and forth. But he’s confused. Isak leaving his apartment didn’t have anything to do with Even like the first time it happened. There was no misspoken words or misunderstanding. They were laughing and joking and smoking and sharing before everything went to shit. Isak said he wanted to be Even’s friend and now he wouldn’t even look at him. He didn’t know if he’s ever met someone so up in the air with their actions. So hot and cold.

Isak lets out a humorless chuckle – one full of sarcasm and dullness.

Even frowns.

Isak looks back at the third year. His eyes unfocused but completely honest in the moment. Even stares right back. That’s when he notices for the first time just how fidgety and uncomfortable Isak seems tonight. Whenever Isak has been around Even he’s always seemed skittish, sure, but never like this. Completely giving himself over to his actions, like he has absolutely no control over his own body. He watches as Isak rubs his nose too forcefully, for a little too long, and scratched the tip roughly – his blunt fingernails leaving deep red marks on his skin. He bounces his leg restlessly and thumbs his bottom lip – pressing his finger into the spongey flesh too hard – turning the skin white for a minute.

When he speaks, his words are quite candid and frank, “You don’t want to be my friend, Even.”

He’s probably right. Sana’s probably right. He’s going to end up regretting this.

It’s too late though.

Even’s already so wrapped up in everything about Isak. He’s lost in pools of green and enveloped in the softly spoken words he speaks. He’s hanging off each and every lie and waiting impatiently on his secrets. He’s on the edge of his seat every time Isak looks back into his eyes or bites his lip gently or smiles something honest and pure.

So he asks anyway, “I don’t?”

“No.” the blonde replies strongly, the hardness in his eyes is unmistakable. He truly believes his word. “You don’t.”

“And when did I make this decision?” Even challenges, just to be difficult, just to really know.

Isak lets out a tired frustrated sounding sigh as he lets his eyes meet the ceiling – before returning Even’s gaze.

Even’s eyes trace the planes of Isak’s face – smooth and pale and so pretty. Something flips steadily and lightly in his chest every time Isak looks his way.

He’s never had a proper crush until now. It’s startling and pleasant and so very new to Even.

“I think maybe you don’t see yourself very clearly.” Even tells him.

Isak licks the taste of beer off his lips and laughs through his nose.

“I think I see myself just fine.” He replies.

“No” Even says back quickly. This time it’s his voice that rises a little with firmness. He means his words too. “No, you don’t. You wouldn’t say shit like that if you did.”

There is no way Isak sees himself clearly and can still say things like that. He couldn’t possibly see himself the way Even sees him then.

Isak’s expression remains calm and mostly blank as he nods, before looking away from Even once again, as he answers sarcastically, “Or maybe you just have really fucking bad eye sight.”

Even can’t help it, it bubbles in his chest too quickly for him to catch, and he lets out a quiet laugh at Isak’s words.

Isak smiles along for just a moment, his lips closed but happy, and then he stops. His body goes still and his eyes go a little cold.

Even pauses – his laughter catching in his throat as he follows the blonde’s gaze – until he finds what made Isak freeze.

Jonas is standing on the other side of the room, Magnus and Mahdi by his side, laughing and completely oblivious to the stiffness in the air around them. Jonas’ eyes are locked on his best friend’s. Firm. Demanding. Intense. So much so that Even feels like he himself should glance away. Jonas’ eyes begin to squint until he’s practically glaring at the blonde across the room over his other friend’s shoulder.

Isak’s expression remains stiff even as he looks away and back down at the bottle between his hands. His jaw clenches tightly and the muscles of his neck stay tense and tight.

Even shifts beside him, suddenly uncomfortable, like he interrupted a private moment that he wasn’t meant to see – which was probably the exact case.

He decides to go with his earlier plan of  the day, simple and to the point, “Are you and Jonas fighting or something?” He wonders – probably crossing too many lines to count and really pushing his luck with the small, sad boy beside him.

Isak just lets out another dull humorless laugh, however. His chest moving slowly with his heavy breaths. His eyes still trained on the bottle.

“Not really” He says quietly, almost too quiet for Even to hear, “I’m just a fuck up.”

“We’re all fuck ups.”

“Well, I might just have a special talent for fucking up expanecially, I guess.”

Isak doesn’t say anything for a while after that. And neither does Even. He really doesn’t know what to say exactly.

He watches as Isak swallows thickly a few times, pushing down the obvious emotions trying to make their way out. He shifts on the couch and curses under his breath. He pats his pockets down, trying to find something, before he huffs and takes an angry swig of his beer.

And then his eyes turn to Even’s again. They’re a little brighter now, but just as warm and deep as Even always remembers, more of a pink color than a red, now that Isak’s high is beginning to fade. His eyelashes are long and dark and curl so that they touch the top of his eyelids. The underneath’s of his eyes are tired and blue. Even notices a small light scar on the left side of his jaw and gets lost for a moment in the delicate dip of his collarbone. No one has ever been able to make Even’s head spin with just a simple stare. His stomach fills with butterflies and his throat becomes dry. He feels like something hits his chest – fast and heavy and hard.

Isak blinks up at him, his cheeks filling with color so beautifully that for a moment, Even can let himself believe that maybe Isak is feeling the same thing he is.

“I made another promise to him that I won’t be able to keep.” Isak tells him, the truth pouring from his lips so casually and carelessly that Even’s not sure Isak meant to say it. He’ll probably regret this conversation in the morning. He probably regrets it right now.

Even wants to tell him that maybe he's just underestimating himself. Maybe he's stronger than he thinks, braver than he knows, but he has a feeling that his words wouldn't help.

So he just nods, tilting his head to lean back against the couch, his words coming out soft and dizzy “If you know you’re going to break the promise,” Even wonders “then why did you make it?”

Isak’s pink lips lift sadly once again, curving in the most precious way at the corners, smile lines forming around his lips, the small dimples on his cheeks becoming more prominent.

“Like I said,” He replies, “I’m that extra special kind of fucked up.”

He places the bottle to his lips one last time, tossing his head back, letting the last of the alcohol spill into his mouth and flow into his system.

And then he’s placing the bottle down heavily on the table next to him, the loud clash of the glass making Even jump, and then Isak is standing up and walking away from Even – again.

“And you really don’t want to be my friend.” He says one final time.

Even watches as the boy disappears into the thick crowd of people until he leaves Even’s view completely.

His mind is almost completely blank as he watches the second year leave. He’s not sure what just happened. He was supposed to come over here and take control of the situation – not lose the control and himself completely – to the younger boy.

Before Even has too much time to think about getting up and following Isak aimlessly into the crowd, his phone vibrates loudly from his pocket, causing him to reach for it mindlessly.

His eyebrows furrow as he reads the new notification, looking up to find the same brown eyes that were glaring at Isak, locked on him – making everything inside of him freeze – pinned there under the scowl - uncertain and unsteady.

 **Jonas Vasquez:** _How the fuck do you really know Isak?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said I'm really nervous about this update, so don't leave me hanging when it comes to feedback. No matter what kind it may be. Thoughts? Feelings? Predictions? Let me know! Comments are always open :)


	10. Promises, Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I want to thank every single one of you. Everyone who is still here reading and commenting and leaving kudos! You're all so wonderful<3.
> 
> Also: surprise, surprise! I'm horrible at editing. Please forgive me.
> 
> & just a quick note before you start...I've noticed a trend starting here on ao3 in the Skam "ficdom". Hateful comments. I, thankfully, haven't had any yet! You have all been so wonderful and supportive. But I just wanted to add my 2 cents. Remember that ao3 is supposed to be a safe place for people to share their work. It's supposed to bring us together and let us share our love for not only these characters but for our storytelling and creativity. So, please, before leaving a comment just remember there is a difference between helpful criticism/genuine feeling towards a author's work (worded and presented respectfully) and straight up hateful comments that do nothing but hurt the author and disrespect the time and effort and passion they have put into sharing their work with the fandom. Just remember to be kind and thoughtful with your words. If you don't like a fic or don't agree with how an author is handling the story...simply don't read it. Be mindful of tags and warnings and your own personal triggers. 
> 
> Remember - "Everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. Be kind. Always."

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_"Life is too short to spend it at war with yourself."_

_......_

**2 Years Ago **

_Isak was shivering. The cold night air was relentless against his bare skin. He was in such a rush to get away that he had forgotten to grab a coat, hell, he had forgotten to grab pants._

_So now he walked the lonely streets of Oslo in nothing but a plain white T-shite and his boxers - clutching his cell phone tightly to his chest - debating his next move._

_He really didn’t have a choice. He was going to have to call him. He had nowhere to go and he couldn’t, he just fucking couldn’t go back home._

_He checked the time and sighed as it blinked dully back at him. 02.22. He’s been walking around for an hour now - his legs shaking, his face throbbing, and his arms wrapped around his own body tightly, trying to grasp onto any kind of comfort or stability it could find._

_He finally hit Jonas’ number, not letting himself think about it too much. All the questions that were going to come. The concern and worry and care. He didn’t want it. He didn’t deserve it. But he didn’t have a choice._

_Jonas and his mom had always known something was up with Isak’s home life. That there was something off about his mother and father. But they had never seen him like this. Completely stripped bare of any semblance of normalcy. Nothing to hide behind. Just him and his shame for everyone to see._

_The first call went to voicemail like he figured it would - it was a school night and it was late._

_But then the second call went to voicemail._

_And the third. And the fourth. And the fifth._

_Until there was only one thing left for Isak to do._

_He ended up outside his best friend’s house. He knocked. And knocked. And knocked a little harder when no one came at first._

_All his build up energy just explodes. He was scared and lonely and lost and he just wanted some place warm to lay down. Some place safe. He wants someone to tell him it was going to be okay and that things weren’t as bad as they seemed._

_He wanted Jonas._

_He knocked and knocked until he was full on banging on the front door with two closed fists and his upper body. He ignored the pain that pulsed through his sore arms and weak chest. He ignored the wetness that began to trail down his cheeks and drip from his chin. He ignored his shivering legs and ice-cold skin. He banged harder and harder._

_He heard cursing and mumbling and stumbling from inside the house._

_“Jesus, who in God’s name….”_

_And then the door opened and Isak had to squint at the bright light that flooded his view - his eyes so used to the darkness by now._

_“Isak?” He heard Jonas ask in disbelief “What the hell are- Do you know what time it - “_

_When Isak’s eyes met Jonas’, he stopped short. He watched his friend’s eyes become suddenly clear - all traces of sleep gone. They widened._

_Isak knew how he must have looked. He was hit pretty hard. He hadn’t checked a mirror but he had felt the bruises begin to form beneath his eyes and the blood under his nose start to dry. His dad had never hit him like this before. It was always quietly and discreetly. Grabbing his upper arm, a little too tightly, or elbowing him forcefully in his abdomen, bruises that didn’t linger long and were easily coverable._

_This was something new._

_“Honey, who on earth is it?” Isak heard Jonas’ mother ask quietly from behind him. Until she was there standing next to her son, peeking from behind his shoulder._

_She let out a loud gasp, her hand moving to cover her open mouth._

_Isak must have looked worse than he originally thought._

_He couldn’t stand the look in both their eyes. Sadness and pity and confusion. He didn’t want any of it. All he wanted was to take a shower, smoke a joint with his friend, and sleep in a warm bed._

_So, in the end all he ended up saying was, “I need a place to stay tonight.”_

.

 

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.

That was the very first time Isak had ever run to Jonas for help like that. The first time of many.

He was able to convince Jonas' mother that it had just been some punks from school that jumped him. It took a little bit of word play and sweet looks but he was able to get her to settle down. He convinced her to just patch him up there and not take him to the hospital.

Jonas knew better though. He never pushed or pried – but he knew. He started offering Isak a place to stay more than usual. He started making sure to hang out with Isak every single day after school – allowing him to stay out as late as possible before having to go home. Jonas never knew just how bad it was at Isak’s house until that night.

That’s also the night Isak started to feel less like a best friend and more like a burden. Something that had to be watched over and taken care of. He felt the relationship switch from 50/50 to something different. Something he wishes he could take back.

Now, Isak needed to get away from said best friend.

His blood was rushing too quickly – moving hot and heavy – scraping along his veins and making his body pulse with the swelter inside of him.

Isak was burning inside. He was craving inside.

The room around him, filled from wall to wall with sweaty bodies, not helping his dilemma in the slightest.

He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be literally anywhere else in the world but here – making his way through a crowd of rowdy drunk teenagers on a weekday night.

He had wanted to stay home and sleep. Sleep being something that his body was craving desperately. But Jonas made him come. He made it one of his conditions. That Isak had to let Jonas keep an eye on him on weeknights and especially weekends. Make sure he really wasn’t using. To make sure Isak didn’t really have a problem like he claimed not to.

But Isak didn’t anticipate tonight being the biggest trigger he could ever have imagined.

Fucking Even.

Tonight, of all nights he had to swoop in and try to make conversation. Isak never saw the third year at any parties until, just his luck, tonight.

Isak did his best to look uninterested. He avoided eye contact as much as possible and made sure to keep his facial features neutral and uninterested no matter how much Even’s smile made his heart squeeze or how much his voice made Isak’s skin tingle and flush. He couldn’t let the other boy see that.

_Friends._

Whether he knew it or not yet, Even didn’t want to be Isak’s friend.

He reaches the edge of the den where the crowd dissipates slightly, leaving more room to move and breath.

He pulls his phone from his pocket which has been going off nonstop the whole time he’s been here. He’s been trying his best to ignore the incessant vibrating because he knew exactly who it was and exactly what they wanted.

He swallows thickly as he finally scrolls through the notifications.

 **Chris:** _hey party boy you swinging through tonight?_

 **Chris:** _Yo just got a text from your boy Jonas. He wanted to know if I’m selling to you???? Wtf????_

 **Chris:** _You gonna answer me any time soon? Thought you were done playing hard to get._

 **Chris:** _Come on, Party Boy. I got some good shit. New blow they want me to test out before selling. Thought you’d be the person to ask._

 **Chris:** _I blocked Jonas btw dude is annoying as shit_

 **Eva:** _Isak baby! Party at C’s tonight. You coming through?_

 **Chris:** _My house @ 23 if you’re down._

 **Eva:** _:(_

Isak deletes every single message, making sure to remind himself again and again of the promise he made Jonas and how it was the only thing holding together the very rocky ground that he stood on.

He takes a deep breath to steady himself, leaning back heavily against the uncomfortable wall behind him.

There is a thick layer of sweat clinging to Isak’s skin. He was so uncomfortable. He was unhappy here. He was unhappy everywhere.

He opens his eyes and lets them adjust to the dim lightly around him. And that’s when he catches them from the corner of his eye. First he sees Jonas’ bush of messy thick curls. And then right above that he catches the sharp blue color he’s been trying to forget for days.

Jonas is crowding Even – obviously angry – his body looming over the other boy despite Even's advantage in height. Jonas has his arms on both sides Even, trapping him against the counter in the kitchen, his face way too close. Even’s eyes are wide and his mouth dropped. His face is flushed a light pink and he has a lingering look of confusion and anxiety on his face.

Isak doesn’t let himself think about it right now even as the questions scream from inside his mind.

Isak turns and walks in the opposite direction, outside and away from it all, not looking back.

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.

Isak wakes with a startle, something crashing to the ground from the room over causes his eyes to fly wide open, sweat sticking uncomfortably to his neck and back. Lea’s hair is fanned out across his pillows, the smell of Lilac and lavender reaching him as the tips of her blonde curls tickle his nose. She must have snuck in at some point during the night after Isak made it home. He stumbled through the door – slightly too drunk and decidedly not high enough – and fell face first onto his bed.

He drags his body slowly from the bed – trying not to disturb his sleeping sister – sore and tired still, mouth dry and sour, eyes heavy as he makes his way to the door.

He hears her before he sees her as he cracks it open slightly. She’s singing loudly and happily like she has no care in the world. His mother.

That’s _his mother’s_ singing voice.

Not Anita’s. Not the dull, lifeless, crazy voice that Isak has become so accustom to. This isn’t the frightening voice that reads bible verse after bible verse in Isak’s direction, telling him terrible tales of hell fire and sin. This isn’t the voice that never knows his name. This isn’t the voice that causes Isak’s spine to straighten and his heart to grow cold.

This is his mother’s voice. Beautiful and calm and clear as day.

Isak makes his way out of his room slowly, his bare feet pressing into the soft but dirty carpet beneath him. His movements are hesitant and mindful as his brain begins to clear from its fog of last-night-drunkenness. He doesn’t trust that this is real just yet, knowing it might still be a dream.

He hasn’t heard this voice is a long, long time. Not even in his dreams.

When he was younger, Isak used to have a reoccurring dream about his mother, she would stand before him, face filled with color and life and just sing. No song in particular. Nothing special that Isak would even remember when he woke up. But she sang none the less. She sang strongly – clear and crisp. Isak never felt more at home than when his mother would sing to him.

Isak makes his way through the houses halls now, creeping over on his tip-toes, not sure he’s ready for his mother to know of his presence. When he reaches the archway between the den and the kitchen, he hesitates for a moment, making sure to steady his breathing and prepare himself for the worst. And then he peeks around the corner – his eyes wide and unsure as they land on her.

Anita. Her back is to Isak but he can already tell that she’s showered. Her hair is dry but clean and tossed into a loose ponytail. Her body isn’t covered in a layer of dirt and hidden away under her bathrobe, no, Anita is fully dressed. A pair of jeans and bright red t-shirt hang loosely from her too-thin-frame.

She’s singing and whistling and wiping the counters down casually as she sprays cleaner and moves with ease around the room.

Isak’s heart stops for a minute or two.

“Mamma?” He whispers in awe, stepping further around the corner, his lips parted in shock. It’s hushed and quick but she still hears it, and she turns.

A smile spreads across her face, wide and vibrant and _real_ , a smile Isak has missed more than anything in the world.

“Isak,” She says clearly, not mumbled or rushed, just simple and true “My baby boy.”

These words don’t cause Isak’s spine to stiffen. They don’t cause dread or worry.

“Mamma,” He whispers again – his voice nothing but pure relief.

His mother.

Even when Anita has moments where she remembers who he is – that his name is Isak and he’s her son – he can still tell she’s lost. She still shuffles around mindlessly and mumbles about the end of the world. She forgets where things are and where she is. She looks dead and acts just the same.

Isak can’t remember the last time he saw her like this. Saw _her_. The real her being able to push through the thick heavy haze in her mind and see the world around her again for what it really was.

Her face is still too thin, her cheeks hollow and lacking color, but her eyes shine with clarity. There is no haze of confusion or fear covering them. She’s here. She’s right here in this reality with her son.

“Hey baby,” She says softly, turning quickly to put down her cleaning supplies, before making her way to her son, wrapping her spindly arms around him tightly and without a single ounce of hesitation.

Isak is still for a while, just letting his arms hang limply by his sides while his mother presses her face firmly against his chest. He’s afraid to move, afraid that if he touches her and really acknowledges this moment that maybe his brain will snap out of it, he’ll wake up and she’ll be gone and he’ll know for sure that it was all just a dream.

Anita, seeming to read his mind just like she was always so good at doing before she lost her own, speaks softly to him, “It’s me, Isak” She tells him “It’s really me. I’m here.”

With that, Isak feels all his tension leave. His body begins to loosen and he can hardly feel the soreness in his muscles anymore. He wraps his arms around her in return, letting his cheek press against the warm clean skin of her neck, just like when he was a little boy. She smells just like she used to – floral yet sweet. Calming and beautiful. Fresh summer mornings and cool breezes.

“Mamma” He says again – not realizing his voice is laced lightly with tears until his mom asks –

“Why are you sad, Isak?”

He tightens his arms around her, not wanting to let go, never wanting to let go – because he knows that this is fleeting. Today, something has made Anita strong enough to climb out of the deep dark world inside of her mind. Isak doesn’t know where the strength comes from or how long it will last but he knows it will be fleeting. It always is. And just like with most of Anita’s moods, Isak tries not to feel too much, or hope in the slightest. She never stays around for too long. The sickness inside of her always overpowers the weak corners of Anita’s mind.

Isak almost wants to go and wake up Lea – show her this moment and let her feel this feeling. The feeling that blooms in his chest occasionally. A feeling of calmness and the much feared, much dreaded hope that he tries to run from. It’s dull and barely flickering but it’s there. The feeling that they haven’t lost their Mamma completely. She’s in there. Somewhere. They just haven’t been looking hard enough.

Then there’s the other part of him, the selfish part, that wants this moment all to himself. Just him and his Mamma. Just like always.

“I’ve just missed you.” Isak answers her, his voice shaking against her skin.

He presses his fingers into her back, feeling her prominent bones, to ground himself – making sure once again that she and this moment are both real.

Isak hasn’t had a real hug like this since he was just a small boy – nothing to worry about but bedtimes and eating all his vegetables.

“Oh, honey,” Anita pulls back from the embrace and Isak almost whimpers at the loss of contact. His eyes remain curious and wide like a child as she gazes up at him. She cradles his face between her palms and uses her thumbs to brush away the stray tears that fall. Her eyes are still their usual dull blue-gray color but they aren’t cloudy today. They are clear as ever.

Anita can’t believe how much her son’s face has slimmed and how handsome he’s becoming. His eyes are emerald colored and his jaw is strong. She wants to ask him how old he is, just to make sure she’s right, placing him at about seventeen now, but she knows that would make him sad and she, like Isak, doesn’t know how long her strength with last. So, instead, she just smiles kindly.

“I’ve missed you too, baby.” She says, swallowing back her own tears, making sure this moment is just for him, “I’ve missed you so much.”

There is a short gasp that comes from the archway and Anita lets her eyes flick from the green ones above her to see her daughter. Beautiful and so grown-up. Lea stares for a second before she rubs some of the sleep from her eyes, or maybe to check her vision, to make sure this is real. Her hair is messy and matted around her head but she’s still so pretty.

“Mamma,” She hears Lea whisper in the same voice of wonder her brother did.

And then Anita is wrapping both her children into a firm embrace, not sure when she’ll get this chance again, not sure that she ever will.

She lets her tears flow, the same as theirs do.

.

.

.

Isak sits at the kitchen table, eyes following Anita’s movements still very carefully, waiting for everything to become undone just like he knows it will. He just hopes he’s not around to see it happen. He hates watching the process. Watching his mother’s beautiful unique mind completely unravel piece by piece until there is no Anita left at all.

Lea sits across from him at the table, her eyes the same as his own, cautious but full of wonder.

Isak watches as his sister’s face practically glows under the dim lighting of their kitchen. Her cheeks are flushed an excited kind of pink as she holds her bottom lip between her teeth – her eyes barely containing the excited feeling behind them. Lea was so young the last time this happened, the last time their mother was back fully, and he’s not sure how well she remembers it.

“I would offer to make you guys some food,” Anita says as she continues to wipe down the already clean counters across the room, “but you know how your father doesn’t like me to use the oven. Uhm, I’ve checked for some meat and cheese but we seem to be out so…” She trails off awkwardly, not looking back to face her children.

Isak can’t be quite sure but his mother seems almost _shy_ – embarrassed maybe. He doesn’t know if she remembers what she’s like when she isn’t really around. He doesn’t know just how clear her moments of clarity are. He’s never had enough time to ask her. She always slips back into her own reality and away from him before his wonder and awe fade and he can think of proper questions to ask her about her feelings.

But he has so many question.

_Where do you go when you’re gone? Do you remember what you do? Do you want to get help even though Pappa won’t let you? Do you think about me even when you’re lost? Does the other you still love me?_

Isak has a million of them,

But for right now – he’s quiet. Letting both himself and Lea have this moment with her.

He rubs his nose roughly and coughs – his throat still dry and sore from last night.

“It’s okay, Mamma” Lea answers for them both.

When Isak coughs again, his mom looks over, her eyes soft and full of care.

“Let me get you some water, baby.”

Isak doesn’t protest and gulps the water quickly once his mom hands him the cup, quenching his thirst and stopping the itch at the back of his throat for a short while.

“You guys don’t have time to eat anyway,” Anita reminds them “You have to get to school.”

Isak’s head is already shaking rapidly in protest when Lea jumps in, speaking hurriedly, “No! It’s okay. Why don’t…why don’t we just take the day off?” She looks over to her brother, eyes wide and desperate, “Right, Isak? We can both afford to miss a day.”

They both know Isak can’t but that doesn’t stop him from nodding, swallowing the last of his water, and answering, “Totally. It’s not really a big deal, Mamma. We can just- “

“Nei” Anita cuts him off, shaking her head rapidly, waving her arms in protest. “You’re not going to miss anymore school because of me” Her voice is firm and final and very mother-like “You’re going to school and that’s that.”

Lea opens her mouth to protest again, her small body scooting forward on the chair, trying to make her mother understand.

But Anita is already ahead of her, “No, Lea,” She shushes her – as if speaking to a small child as she places a boney hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Get dressed. Go to school. I’ll be right here when you get back.”

But there is no promise in Anita’s voice. No sureness in her words. There can’t be.

Isak swallows thickly, trying to swallow the lump forming at the base of his throat, already bracing himself for the goodbye.

.

.

.

She hugs them both before they leave the house reluctantly, not sure how they would be returning to her. Her arms were warm and solid and comforting. She tells them that she loves them. To always remember that she loves them. No matter what.

And they all understand what her words really mean.

_No matter what I say later when I’m too sick to understand again, no matter what I do, I’m in here. And I love you. And I’m sorry._

But instead of those words she simply kisses her children on the cheek and tells them she loves them again and again before she pushes them out the door with worried eyes.

“Do you think she’ll still be there when we get back?” Lea asks as they walk together, slowly, and side by side.

Isak shrugs, trying to do what he does best, and just not think about the future. Right now, he lets the feeling unfurl inside of his usually empty chest. He knows he should shove it away just like he usually would. He’s gotten good at it now – protecting himself from feeling that only lead to pain. He should bury this feeling of hope and happiness as far down as he can. But it’s been so long since he’s been able to grasp onto anything real for even just a moment. A real and true feeling. And he notices the way his muscles don’t ache as badly with each step he takes and his throat isn’t as itchy and his nose doesn’t tingle as much. Isak is weak to this usually sparse and fleeting feeling.

“I hope so.” Isak tells his sister the truth, taking her hand in his own and squeezing tightly.

The sun peeks through the clouds weakly and warms his face, making his skin heat, despite the cold cruel winds around him.

He feels Lea squeeze his hand back softly in return.

“Me too.”

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.

 **Jonas:** _Aye, let me know if you got home alright._

 **Jonas:** _Hello?????? Where are you? You coming to school?_

 **Jonas:** _Isak…_

 **Jonas:** _You promised._

Isak reads over the texts quietly as the bus moves, jostling his body as he grabs the pole for support, all the seats of the tram already filled.

He kissed Lea’s hair and told her he’d text her when he got home with an update on their mother as they separated.

When the tram stops again, letting another load of people onto the already too-crowded bus, Isak quickly types his message back – not wanting Jonas to think the worse. Because this time it isn’t the worst that Isak has done. He’s kept his promise – no matter how reluctantly. Nothing’s been broken yet. And Isak wants to hold onto that for just a little longer.

 **Isak:** _Sorry bro. Got home and crashed. On the way to school now._

And as an afterthought, to let Jonas know everything was still intact he adds –

 **Isak:** _Everything’s good. I’m good. Promise._

“Halla.”

Isak automatically looks up at the sound of the familiar voice suddenly next to him – deep and warm and light-hearted all the same. He didn’t even notice another person moving so closely beside to him.

_Even._

The way the boys are standing makes Even look taller to Isak as he stares up at the column of his pale, long throat, until the older boy tilts his chin down. Today Even looks just as tired as Isak feels, holding onto the pole above his head to keep himself upright, his body also sways back and forth. His shoulders bump Isak’s a few times and it makes Isak stand a bit straighter. Even’s smile is wide and white and sleep heavy. He’s got his signature jean jacket on and when Isak looks up to check he finds a pair of dark sunglasses placed on top of his perfectly quaffed hair. Which is stupid looking, Isak decides.

“Fancy meeting you here” Even says, smile never leaving his face.

Isak nods.

He remembers how hard Even was trying last night even as Isak continued to shoot him down again and again. Talking bullshit about how they shouldn’t be friends and how much of a fuck up he was.

It was all true, even now, every word was true. And if this was still any other day, Isak would shrug of Even’s greeting and stick to his instinct of –  run, hide, pretend, and repeat. But this isn’t any other day and Isak can still feel the warm feeling blossomed inside of his body, holding his bones together a little more steadily and easing his aches.

So, he doesn’t shy away from Even’s greeting. Instead, he embraces it. He stares up fondly into beautiful sky-blue eyes and he smiles back. A real smile.

_Friends._

He answers, “Halla.”

And when Even’s eyes widen and his smile follows suit – Isak feels something in his chest tug forcefully. Something scary and wonderful. Something real.

Isak remembers the tipsy-smiling-cute boy from last night and his smile hitches higher. He remembers how that boy made him feel. Light. Free. Curious. He remembers pushing those feelings back into the furthest parts of his mind and taking a sip of beer every time he wanted to turn to Even to see his smile or ask him something silly about films and music.

He doesn’t do that now. Now, he lets those feelings spread through his body and those thoughts push through the thick walls of his mind.

He lets himself admire the way the light catches Even’s face this morning – gentle and lovely. He watches as Even’s lips slowly return to his usual pout, only turned up slightly at the corners, and Isak feels his cheeks warm at his own thoughts and distractions.

He pushes his phone into the pocket of his jeans and tugs on the front of his grey snapback nervously.

He tries to think of something else to say but comes up short. Apparently, actively trying to be a normal human and have normal human conversations doesn’t magically make Isak any less awkward or stuck for words.

Even doesn’t seem to mind though.

“Hungover?” He asks.

Isak laughs – eyes now fixed on the blue fabric covering Even’s chest.

“A little bit,” He admits. He was sober enough to take some aspirin before he went to bed last night and drink a few sips of water, so in all honesty, his hangover wasn’t that bad. He’s had much, much worse. “You?”

Even shakes his head, “Nah, just tired. I didn’t drink actually.”

Isak thinks, and now that Even mentions it, he doesn’t remember seeing a drink in the other boy’s hand at all.

So, not-so-tipsy-cute-smiling boy from last night.

The tram stops suddenly, voice coming loudly over the speaker to announce the next stop, and Isak’s body jolts forward forcefully – the light grip of his fingers being easily torn away from the railing. He falls forward helplessly as he tries to catch his weight again, but miserably fails.

Then Even’s hands are wrapped around his upper arms – large and strong and steady.

“Woah there,” Even breaths out.

Isak is so close now that he can smell Even’s fresh mint toothpaste and see the freckle that sits on the tip of his nose. His hands, having a mind of their own, curl into the soft material of Even’s shirt – trying to steady and reground himself.

Isak’s first instinct is to immediately pull away. To put as much distance as he can between himself and another person – no matter who that person may be. An instinct to pull back quickly and snap something like, _don’t touch me_ or _get the fuck off._

But Even is warm and soft and inviting. Isak’s brain isn’t on instinct mode and his thoughts are too jumbled to decipher one from another. He doesn’t think about his sickness or how wrong this should feel.

He holds on for dear life instead.

Isak’s eyes almost cross completely as he glances up at Even’s kind face.

Even’s body is sturdy and warm against his own. Their skin isn’t even touching yet Isak still feels as though he can feel the heat radiating off the blonde’s in front of him.  

This kind of closeness makes Isak want to run.

It also makes him want to _not_ run.

He feels his heart touch his chest again and again, a little faster each time, and he swears Even can hear it just as loudly as it’s ringing in his own ears.

He blinks up at the taller boy slowly and glances down to where his hands are still wrapped around Even’s shirt, before he glances back up – not sure what to do now.

“Be careful.” Even tells him softly, eyes not leaving his own, throat bobbing as he swallows down lingering words and thoughts.

_“Next stop – Hartvig Nissen School.”_

Isak clears his throat, uncurling his fingers from the shirt, and taking a step back from Even’s solid warmth – the air around him suddenly feeling unexplainably cold and empty.

“Thank you,” Isak says is a small voice, not sure what to do with the feeling growing inside of his stomach. Light and sweet.

And petrifying.

His eyes stare at the dirty tram floor, suddenly very interested in the wads of colorful gum and old food that are stuck there.

“You’re welcome.”

.

 

.

 

.

“So…how do you know Jonas?” Isak wonders out loud as the boys exit the tram and begin to walk towards the school.

He didn’t let himself think about it last night, too frustrated and tired and empty to really care. All he wanted was drugs and sleep and to keep his promise to Jonas all at the same time. But now Isak can’t help but be curious about the whole thing. Not only did Jonas and Even know each other apparently but from what Isak observed last night, it wasn’t a friendly acquaintance either.

He always found his curiosity peaked around Even. Isak usually didn’t care about anything in general. This was new. Being curious, genuinely interested.

When Even doesn’t reply right away, Isak glances over to where the boy walks steadily beside him, he’s got him thumbs hooked on the straps of his old backpack and his head down – watching his feet at he kicks up pebbles and dust.

He shrugs, and says unconvincingly, “I don’t really. I told you Magnus invited me to that party and uh, he was with Jonas when we met in school so…yeah. We were just talking.”

Isak frowns.

So, another thing he can now add to the short list of things he knows about Even Bech Næsheim – which currently includes his amazing taste in ice cream, his love for film and direction, and his not-so-hidden scars – is that he’s a terrible liar. Or at least super bad at hiding things. Pretending obviously isn’t this boy’s forte. He’s avoiding eye contact and trying to move past the subject way too quickly to be casual.

Rule number one about lying, about pretending, so that people will believe you: act like there’s nothing to lie or pretend about in the first place.

“Well, whatever was going on, it looked pretty heated.”

Even clears his throat, clearly uncomfortable with Isak’s line of questioning. He kicks more dirt. Isak doesn’t back down.

“He was worried about you.” Even tells him after a moment of silence. This time Isak hears the honestly laced into his words.

Isak feels his heart skip inside of his chest. He wasn’t expecting that. He had figured Jonas had bumped into Even after he left the couch and Even said something silly to piss his friend off. Jonas had quite the temper when he was drinking.

Isak looks forward and nods. He tries not to let his nerves show but it’s hard when the hair on the back of his neck begins to stand and he stumbles slightly over his own feet.

Jonas is always worried about him but he never usually involves other people in that fact. He could have said anything. Asked anything. Especially since the new terms of their friendship.

“Oh?” Isak keeps his voice casual even as his hands shake.

He doesn’t look back over as Even answers, “Yeah, he…I don’t know. He said you seemed upset as you were forcefully storming away from me,” Even lets out a chuckle – fake and forced “He wanted to know if I did something to piss you off.”

Isak nods. He doesn’t believe Even’s uneven tone and shaky words.

He lets it go though.

For now.

He knows he’ll ask Jonas later.

“Yeah, Jonas is like that.”

Once they reach the edge of the school yard, both boys just stop, as if they both know this is as far as they should walk together – like an instinct.

Isak kicks the ground a few times, adjusts the straps of his backpack needlessly, and checks his phone for a text from Jonas that isn’t there.

When he tips his head up again, Even’s eyes are directly on his. As bright and blue and expressive as ever. The sun bounces off his cheeks and makes his pale skin glisten. Isak finds himself irrationally angry at the light and the way it gets to skim the skin of Even’s face – wishing he could do the same with his fingertips.

Isak wasn’t a fan of irrational thoughts and emotions. He liked to see things in facts. A world where everything had its place and nothing happened without reason.

It was ironic really, seeming how literally nothing in Isak’s life was rational or reasonable or in its right place.

But for the most part, Isak was good at keeping his thoughts in check, casual and neat and in their place. He found a system that worked for him. One that allowed him to get through each day without completely breaking in half. A system of well thought out lies and hidden things. He talked and pretended and suffered in silence.

But Even made him want to forget everything he had always thought about the world, and his thoughts, and his life.

Even was something different entirely.

Even was anything but a sane, rational choice.

But the thing was, Isak didn’t feel like pretending around Even. He didn’t need to. There was something about the way Even’s eyes gleamed with kindness and understanding, even when they were talking about the smallest and simplest of things. It was the way he laughed too much and smiled no matter what Isak was saying that made Isak feel like it was okay to talk. It was the way Even seemed to want to be around Isak even when Isak didn’t want to be around himself. How he always smelled like rain and clean things. How his face was perfect even with all its flaws. How his words made sense, made Isak feel good inside. How his apartment was so welcoming and full of ideas and passion and safe places.

Even was good. He offered Isak comfort and change for the bus. He accepted Isak’s apology and apologized in return. He wanted to be Isak’s friend.

Isak wasn’t a good person. He was selfish and generally unpleasant. He was self-destructive and fucked in the head. He was sick and the only thing that ever took away those feelings were drugs. The rush and the power and the high that made Isak’s mind go blank and his heart go numb.

The only thing.

Until now.

_Blue._

It is quickly becoming Isak’s favorite color.

Blue makes him feel that way now. When he looks up and sinks deeply into Even’s gaze and his body buzzes with warmth and calmness – he doesn’t feel so horrible. He doesn’t feel selfish or sick or destructive. He just _feels_. He doesn’t think about the past or the present. He doesn’t even remember there is a future.

He just sees blue.

It’s terrifying and his legs still itch with the need to run.

But he’s okay here.

He’s so okay.

“So,” Even’s eyebrows raise and his lips quirk “Friends then?”

Isak lets out a small laugh and this time he answers with honesty, “Sure. Friends.”

Even gives a firm nod before smiling and saying, “Good. But you know this means you’re going to have to watch _Romeo + Juliet_ now. I can’t be friends with someone who has never seen _Romeo + Juliet_.”

Isak rolls his eyes, letting his lips curl up, and his mind relax, “Who the fuck are you?” He asks – truly wanting to know.

“I’m Even Bech Næsheim,” If possible, Even’s smile grows even wider, “Your new friend.”

“My new friend.” Isak repeats – the words foreign on his tongue.

“For real this time?”

Isak nods.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

And then there is Even’s pinky, long and slim, right in front of Isak’s face.

It’s a simple gesture, silly and pointless in all honestly, but it makes Isak laugh. It makes his chest flutter and his eyes roll towards the sky.

He hasn’t pinky promised anyone since he was seven. And it was his sister.

But Even’s face is so open and genuine and childlike as Isak hooks his pink around the other boy’s that he can’t help but love this moment. Even’s skin is warm and Isak’s hand tingles.

And then he lets go and it’s over just like that.

Isak watches as his new friend walks away from him, towards the school and into the day, while he stands there for a beat longer.

He feels the sun on his skin and the cool breeze on the back of his neck.

He thinks of his Mamma and the itch that isn’t present inside of him.

Today, he doesn’t push away this feeling of hope.

Isak reaches for his phone, scrolling quickly through his contacts, making it a point to find Even’s number.

Changing it from **You’ll Regret This** , simply to –

**Even.**

.

.

.

** A Few Days Ago **

_“I’m really, really sorry.”_

_Isak is sitting on Jonas’ bed, playing with the loose strands of thread that hang from his comforter._

_He showed up unannounced and uninvited and with no plan at all._

_The last contact he had with Jonas was the text messages Isak still had on his phone. Jonas asking if he was high before telling him goodnight, and in turn, telling him to fuck off._

_Jonas stands across the room, leaning back on his bedroom door, arms crossed and eyes hard. His hair is sleep-messed and his stare is tired._

_“For what, Isak?”_

_“For fucking up. I didn’t mean to fuck up again.”_

_“You never mean to fuck up.”_

_Isak squeezes his eyes closed at the true and familiar words._

_“I’m sorry” He repeats, because he really doesn’t know what else to say. He just knows that he needs to say something._

_He can’t take this silent treatment anymore. Not from Jonas._

_“Isak, I can’t do this anymore.”_

_Isak focuses on the fabric of his jeans and pushes down the lump in his throat. He nods. He knew this was coming._

_It’s not fair what Isak puts his best friend through. The worry and the frustration and the pain. He takes and he takes and he takes and he has nothing to give in return. He uses and borrows and steals and when he’s done he comes running back, expecting open arms and kind words._

_Isak’s horrible to Jonas and there’s no denying it._

_He looks up and finds Jonas’ eyes. Those eyes he knows so well._

_He feels safe in this room. This room filled with memories of laughter and secrets and green rolled skillfully between blunts. This room where he can hide and pretend to be okay for a while. This room where he feels loved and protected. This room where he discovered what friendship meant and what it was like to be a normal teenage boy for a while._

_Isak loves Jonas._

_Isak is selfish._

_And Isak –_

_“I can’t lose you.” He tells him, his voice small and weak and with a slight quiver._

_“And I can’t watch you do this to yourself anymore, Isak.” Jonas says, not pausing for the slightest of seconds. His voice is hard and serious, like he’s made up his mind. “I’ve tried. I’ve tried so fucking hard to be there for you. To help you but I don’t think I can help something who doesn’t want to help themselves. Do you understand? I love you too much to sit here and watch you fucking lose_ yourself _.”_

_Isak knows. He fucking knows._

_But his mind is moving a mile a minute and he can’t really catch up to what Jonas is saying. All he can think is,_ no. No. I can’t lose him.

_The words are pouring out of his mouth before he can stop them, “I’m done. I’m really done this time, okay? No more drugs, no more fucking around. I’m not an addict. I can stop I was just…it was just…I’m done. I promise? Okay? I fucking promise. Just don’t…. don’t cut me off. Don’t leave me. Just don’t- “ Isak’s heart is speeding, his voice shaking and rushed._

_“Isak,” Jonas’ voice is softer now as he moves forward, cutting off Isak’s frantic rambling._

_He sits heavily on the bed beside his friend, face downcast and defeated, like he truly doesn’t know what to do anymore. But his resolve is crumbling. Isak has truly stumped him this time._

_“I’m not cutting you off.” He tells him “I’ve just heard this shit from you a million times before and every single time we end up right back here and it’s fucking exhausting.”_

_Isak knew how exhausting he could be, “I- “_

_“So, if we’re doing this again,” Jonas doesn’t let Isak get a word in “We’re doing this on my terms. This promise of yours? It’s going to have conditions.”_

_Isak nods, eager to agree to anything right now, eager to get Jonas to stay._

_Jonas’ thick brows raise, face worn and words quiet, “Do you still promise?”_

_“I still promise.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always welcome! Let me know what you think! 
> 
> I know this story is a slow burn and that isn't everyone's cup of tea but I hope this chapter showed you more of the connection between these two. I really am taking them somewhere! I just need your time and patience to do it. 
> 
> Thank you for reading :)


	11. Easier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh shit! I'm actually posting a chapter!?
> 
> I'm so sorry for the delay guys! Long story short: sometimes real life is a bitch and school is kicking my ass. But hopefully I don't make this a habit. I have a few chapters written ahead now so we should be good! 
> 
> I hope you guys are still with me!
> 
> As always ignore my shitty grammar and any other mistakes you may stumble upon! I'm getting lazier when it comes to editing and I just glanced this over quickly. Oops!
> 
> Not much to talk about this time around. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Alternative Chapter Title: Learning Even Bech Næsheim.

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

_"You have to die a few times before you can really live."_

_......_

_When Isak was eleven years and four months old, he had asked for a new bike exactly thirty-four times._

_There really wasn’t anything wrong with the one he had now. It was still pretty nice, minimal scratches and dents and no rust yet, it still had all its working parts and Isak could still ride it around town for hours without an issue._

_But he still wanted a new one._

_All the kids at school had gotten new bikes for Christmas and their birthdays. Shiny and sleek and fast. They were brightly colored neon greens, blues, and purples. Isak wanted one like that. He never owned anything so beautiful before. He could deal with having to wear old hand-me-down clothes from the thrift store when other kid got a whole new wardrobe for the new year of school. He could handle getting made fun of for his old sneakers that had tears and holes or his stupid curls._

_But this bike, he couldn’t handle not having this bike._

_And he asked every single day. Every time he looked at his dull rusted red bike and frowned as a new pretty one rolled by._

_And every time Isak asked, his father said no._

_“We just don’t have the money right now, Isak.” He would sigh, rubbing his temples tiredly and shaking his head, “There’s nothing wrong with the bike you have now. A lot of kids don’t even have bikes. Be thankful that you do.”_

_Isak didn’t care about any of that. He just wanted a new bike. He didn’t think that was too much to ask for. He didn’t ask for a lot – even when all the other kids had brand new video games and computer games and he was stuck with books and old sketchpads. How much money could one simple bike cost?_

_“But I want a green one.” Is all he would say in reply, to which his father responded, “We all want things we can’t have, Isak.”_

_That only frustrated and confused the child more._

_One day, he was sitting in the yard, sulking and pouting while glaring angrily at the hunk of metal laying before him._

_“Why so down, kid?”_

_Isak raises his head, shielding his eyes from the bright summer sun, to see the man smiling down softly at him. The sun shown on his face – bringing out his deep wrinkles and crow’s feet._

_Isak couldn’t help but wonder if one day he would look that old._

_Uncle Lee had been living with them for a few months now. For the most part everything was still completely normal. Lee slept in the spare guest bedroom and didn’t usually join the family for dinners or Friday movie nights in the living room._

_Isak didn’t know why but for some reason he had a feeling that his Mamma didn’t like Uncle Lee. Isak liked him well enough. He was usually nice when they talked, which was very rarely. Mostly he just went to work and slept a lot._

_He thinks Uncle Lee is sad because his wife left him._

_“Nothing,” Isak mumbles, shrugging his small shoulders, continuing to pluck the grass from the yard – eyes now focused on his ratty old sneakers._

_“Doesn’t seem like nothing” Lee replies – his voice is laced with tiredness but also, a steady kind of calmness – like he has a plan, like he knows exactly what he’s doing with for this moment._

_Suddenly, Lee is right there, sitting heavily down beside his nephew. He lets out a loud grunt and mumbles, “Shit, I’m getting old.”_

_Isak looks over. Lee’s clothes are wrinkled and loose. His lips are chapped and peeling. There are deep dark circles just under his bottom lashes as his dark brown eyes sink in._

_“You look tired.” Isak observes, which for some reason makes his uncle let out a small laugh._

_“And you look sad.”_

_“I keep asking for a new bike but Pappa says no.”_

_“Ah,” Lee nods, as he begins to pluck the grass as well, understanding written across his face “Adults suck.”_

_Isak’s lips turn up, “Yeah,” He agrees, “Adults sucks.”_

_He nods and turns back to picking the grass near his feet._

_Uncle Lee smells like he’s had a few beers and hasn’t showered in a few days. Isak closes his eyes and pictures himself riding his brand new shiny green bike._

_The slight summer breeze tickles his nose and he sighs._

_“Hey Isak?”_

_“Hmm?”_

_“I’m sorry you’re sad.” He repeats the words Isak said to him the first night he showed up at the Valtersen home – looking just as sad and hopeless as Isak did now._

_Isak smiles widely and Uncle Lee smiles back. His teeth are chipped and coffee-stained but his smile is oddly comforting to Isak. Nobody really smiles in the Valtersen home much anymore. At least, not when Tom is around. His Mamma is always happy during the day when Tom is at work. She sings and cooks and paints and tells Isak stories about magical faraway lands._

_But when his Pappa comes home – things get quiet and tense and tired. And smiles are scarce until it’s time for bed._

_Uncle Lee reaches out towards the boy beside him and tucks a tiny curl behind his ear. Lee’s fingers are rough and callused but Isak doesn’t think much else of the action. His Mamma pets his hair all the time – going on and on about how beautiful and unique Isak’s curls are. The same curls the kids at school yank cruelly and tease him for._

_He's learning to hate the curls too._

_“I don’t get why Mamma doesn’t like you” Isak tells him honestly “You’re always so nice to me.”_

_Lee’s smile widens even further as he pulls his hand away._

_"Well,” He announces, dropping his hands onto his bent knees, his dark eyebrows raising “I have an idea. Since I’m so nice to you, maybe you can be nice to me too.”_

_Isak furrows his brows, confused, “How? Am I not already nice to you?_

_“Well, you could be a little nicer” Lee observes, his expression thoughtful, “You’re just a very grumpy little boy. Especially in the morning.”_

_Isak laughs a small laugh. He is grumpy in the mornings. Lea tells him all the time when he’s accidentally too mean to her because she’s too slow and takes too long in the bathroom._

_He asked his Pappa once if he could start drinking coffee in the mornings, like the grown-ups did, because it always seemed to make them a lot happier and friendlier._

_Pappa had, of course, said no – Isak was too young for that._

_Isak hated being treated like a baby._

_“That’s because Pappa won’t let me drink coffee.” Isak says._

_Lee is still smiling, “He says no to a lot of things, doesn’t he?”_

_“He treats me like I’m a baby.”_

_“I don’t think you’re a baby. I remember what it was like to have adults tell me what to do all the time.”_

_Isak looks at his uncle for a moment, and then he smiles, “Thank you.”_

_Uncle Lee gets it._

_“Also, I think I have something that will make you want to be a lot less grumpy. Maybe even a little nicer to me.”_

_Isak just shrugs, bored with the conversation._

_He didn’t want to talk._

_He just wanted a bike._

_“Anyway, I have to go take care of some adult things. I’ll see you around, Isak.”_

_“Okay, Uncle Lee.”_

_…._

_Three days later, Isak is presented with a shiny brand-new neon green bike, all thanks to Uncle Lee._

_On the terms that Isak agrees to be a little less grumpy in the mornings, lets Lea ride it occasionally (a rule Mamma made) and he has to be a little nicer to his Uncle Lee._

_Isak doesn’t hesitate to agree._

.

.

.

Isak watches from across the schoolyard as the kids begin to roll in and lock their bikes up safely into place.

The clouds move in thickly today, blocking most of the sunlight that tries to shine down.

Isak’s body is heavy with exhaustion and he’s thankful for the lack of light and people around him right now. His mouth is dry and his eyes are sleepy. He rubs them harshly as he tries to focus on the day before him.

He feels light on his own legs.

“Oh, my god, Isak.” His friend laughs, just now seeing the text Isak sent him about the movie at 04.00 “How could you even say that?”

It read simply, _The Breakfast Club was just ok._

“What? I’m just saying it had an unrealistic ending. I mean…I get that we were supposed to learn a lesson about tolerance and acceptance and stuff but…seriously?”

“How dare you defile the masterpiece that is The Breakfast Club!”

“If that were real life they would have sat in silence for the whole day.”

“Okay, first of all that is totally untrue- “

“Okay, well, maybe not the whole day but there is no way Claire and Bender would have actually gotten together.”

Isak looks over to where Even’s brows raise above the rim of the still unneeded glasses that cover his eyes. A small sleek smirk plays at the corner of his lips, “Why not?” He asks, voice laced with amusement.

Isak slips his thumbs into the straps of the backpack that hangs off his shoulders and shrugs lazily.

“It was too easy,” He explains “There is no way Claire would have given in so easily.”

“Oh, so you like when they play hard to get then?”

Isak smiles and rolls his eyes towards the sky, shaking his head subtlety.

This is how most of his mornings go nowadays.

Isak and Even bickering in the schoolyard, waiting for the other boys. It’s a very new and weird thing – being the one waiting for his friends instead being the one waited on. But Even was an early bird and lately, Isak found himself naturally just mirroring Even’s actions. Waking up a little earlier each morning (if he even slept that night), and arriving at school earlier and earlier too.

Isak found himself wanting to be alone less and less these days.

Even sits across from where Isak stands on the hard cement in front of Nissen. His long limbs bent beneath him as he now smiles widely at his friend. The sunlight catches the ends of his dirty blonde hair and makes it almost sparkle.

Isak kind of wishes he would take off his sunglasses so Isak can see how the light would be hitting the different shades of blue in his eyes today.

It’s been about two weeks of having a new friend.

And being friends with Even was a lot easier than Isak had originally thought it might be.

He didn’t think that had anything to do with him however. It had nothing to do with his growth as a person or new capability to be a normal human with normal friends.

No, it was all Even.

Isak thought the pressure of trying to have a new friend would be too much for him. He couldn’t even be there for himself let alone someone else. He was already a horrible friend to the people in his life now. But it wasn’t that way with Even. He didn’t ask questions unless Isak was giving him answers. He didn’t talk too much or push too hard or expect Isak to be anything he wasn’t.

Even was good at just going with the flow.

Even made it easy. He made everything easier. He was easy to talk to, easy to laugh with, easy to look at. 

He made it easy for Isak to forget about the nagging itch that continued to linger at the back of his throat. He made it easier for Isak to block out the pulling inside his brain that told him to just give up already, it was inevitable, just call Chris and get what he needs. And whenever he did begin to feel that way…. he texted Even. And Even made it so much easier to push aside the temptation. It was never fully gone. It was always there – lurking in the farthest parts of Isak’s brain. When he was alone, just him and his thoughts, it was the hardest to ignore. But it was manageable. With Even just a text message away.

He sent Isak stupid memes that were about six months too late at 02.00 and sent him detailed lists of all the movies he had watch and why Even thinks he should watch them. He sent him links to 90 Hip-Hop groups Isak had never heard of on Spotify and links to his favorite poetry online.

It made Isak smile, like a special secret, into the darkness of his bedroom. Isak doesn’t ever remember smiling this much over such silly things.

And when Isak isn’t with Even or he isn’t sending him stupid memes that make Isak simultaneously laugh and roll his eyes – he finds his mind drifting to him anyway. He thinks about simple things, like how he likes the way Even scrunches up his nose when he’s in deep thought or how Even likes silly knock-knock jokes or the crinkle of the skin around his eyes when he laughs, or how he will analyze literally any movie he watches – stupid things like romantic comedies included.

They once had a thirty-minute conversation about the movie _50 First Dates_ and its complete misrepresentation of anything and everything you could think of.

Well, it wasn’t so much a conversation as it was Even talking for a straight thirty minutes while Isak sat quietly and smiled up at him before they went and got pizza.

Isak didn’t really like movies any more than he used to. He thought they were alright. Some he enjoyed more than others, he could see the general art in them, but he still always became restless about halfway through the film.

Next on Even’s list – _Pretty Woman._

What he did love though, was how passionate Even got about the films. How his eyes lit up brightly every time Isak said he enjoyed a specific one or how happy he got when Isak asked him a question about one. Isak loved watching his wild, expressive hand gestures when he spoke about his favorite films and Isak loved the fact that if he let him – Even would talk about them for hours.

There was something… _beautiful_ about the way Even talked about films. Fervent and dedicated and full of love. Isak had never seen anyone so passionate about anything before. It was fascinating to him.

Isak was quickly realizing that Even’s head was full of fascinating stories and daydreams that always kept his attention.

So, yeah, things have just been a little…easier.

It was easier to avoid Chris in school and to pretend his number didn’t exist at all in his phone. Isak wasn’t ready to block his number completely or even delete it yet but, he also hasn’t scrolled by it and stared in quite some time. He was getting much better at deleting Chris’ texts immediately after reading them.

It was a little harder to ignore Eva. No matter how fucked up she was, she was Isak’s friend. He missed her. He missed her smile and jokes and comforting presence. But he also knew that texting Eva was just one step away from texting Chris. So, he ignored her texts too, avoided her eyes in the hall, and pretended there was nothing to run from.

He knew that it wouldn’t be able to last that long. Eva wasn’t the kind of person to just lay down and pretend not to care. She was a take charge, face the problem head on kind of girl. Isak knew that meant it would just be a matter of time before she said fuck it and just cornered him in the hall or something. He wouldn’t put it past her to follow him into the boy’s bathroom one day.

But other than that, things were alright.

Even started eating lunch with Isak and the boys and they seemed to like him too.

He was just that kind of person. Easy. Likable. Friendly. Everything Isak wasn’t naturally.

Light and warmth seemed to just ooze from the older boy whenever he was around. The air around Isak was suddenly calmer and more peaceful – always able to settle the storm inside Isak.

Jonas was still hesitant with Isak. He sent him texts way too often asking how he was doing, he would keep his eyes focused and watchful, looking for any signs that his best friend had slipped up.

Honestly, Isak couldn’t even bring himself to feel frustrated or angry. He knew he deserved Jonas’ doubt. He deserved the hesitance and distrust.

Isak still didn’t trust himself either. He’s not sure he ever fully would.

But for right now – things were okay.

And he was going to enjoy it while it lasted, because things in Isak’s life didn’t often stay okay for very long.

He still hasn’t managed to get a real answer about what happened between Jonas and Even at the party. They both gave him vague answers and pleading looks whenever he brought it up. But they both seemed to be over it by now, so Isak figured he didn’t really need to worry about it too much.

Sometimes they would exchange glances across the table in the cafeteria that Isak caught and didn’t understand. It was a look that unsettled Isak.

Suddenly, Even’s thumb is pressing lightly into the skin beneath Isak’s eye.

Isak jumps slightly, turning his eyes quickly to look up at the older boy, surprised by his touch – even though he shouldn’t be by now.

Something else Isak has learned about Even is how comfortable he is with touch. He, of course, notices when Isak is uncomfortable and will back away, Even’s thoughtful like that. He doesn’t even ask why little touches make Isak uncomfortable like most people would. But when he’s just being himself, oblivious to the world around him, Even doesn’t shy away from touch. In fact – he seems to enjoy it. Little things like casual shoulder brushes or light touches of the hand. Not just with Isak either. With anyone. Everyone. Even seems to like to be close to people in general.

And looking. Even liked looking.

He liked looking at Isak. He looked and looked and when Isak looked back, catching him staring, Even never shied away like he had been caught – he just continued to look.

He looked until Isak's lower stomach began to heat from his intense stare and the air around him became heavy and his skin flushed and he had to look away.

“You look tired,” Even observes, his thumb skimming the soft skin of Isak’s face, tinted a slight purple color from his lack of sleep. “Still having trouble?”

It’s a simple touch – light as a feather and already gone as Even pulls his hand away.

But Isak can feel his heart speed up a beat. He feels the tinkles that Even’s skin leaves behind on his own. He feels the small hairs behind his neck stand. He can smell Even’s fresh body wash and light cologne and inhales deeply on instinct.

He swallows thickly and pretends not to notice any of it. He adjusts his hat and fiddles with the straps of his bag.

He made the horrible mistake of telling Even he’s been having trouble sleeping. Although, to be fair, it’s probably not that hard to see in the first place. Isak isn’t great at hiding the fact that he’s lack of sleep. Not when he can barely drag his body from class to class or how he sometimes accidentally closes his eyes for too long when the boys are at lunch and he falls asleep for a second before Magnus wakes him up obnoxiously.

The boys gave him shit for days the last time he fell asleep, head resting in his hand heavily, before he slipped and slammed his forehead into the table beneath him.

Even touched him then too. He brushed his fingertips lightly against the bright red mark on Isak’s face as he laughed and asked, “You alright?”

Sometimes, on the tram ride home, Even stays quiet for Isak. Like he just knows it’s what Isak needs. He can sense when Isak is too tired to speak, as if he knows what it’s like to be too exhausted to form words. Even’s good at picking up on Isak’s moods and what he needs in that moment. Isak has no idea how he does it.

Sometimes he’ll even let Isak fall asleep and make sure he doesn’t fall from his seat when the bus stops suddenly.

Isak tells him he worries too much.

Even tells Isak he doesn’t worry enough.

“Uhm,” He clears his throat, “Yeah, I guess. Not a big deal.” He mumbles, looking down at the ground.

“It is a big deal,” Even shakes his head, pushing his glasses up onto his head, eyes serious as he speaks “Sleep is important, Isak. You can’t live healthily on three hours of sleep a night. Maybe you should talk to Dr. Skrulle.”

Isak stares back blankly, “Who?”

Even’s eyes roll, “The school doctor.”

Isak lets out a fake chuckle, “No thank you.”

“Isak- “

“You know I doubt she’s even a real doctor. She probably just gives herself that title so students feel more comfortable talking to her.”

“Well, what’s wrong with that? Maybe you just need to talk to someone.”

“I talk to you…and I talk to Jonas.”

“That’s different. We don’t talk about the real- “

“Are you going to start rambling about the importance of therapy again?”

Even smiles softly.

“Aren’t you glad you decided to be my friend?”

Isak’s eyes trace the smooth planes of Even’s face, the small dip in his chin, the lovely way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks and the height of his smile and he thinks to himself, _yes._

But he says, instead, with a roll of his eyes, “Well, it would be a lot quieter if I hadn’t that’s for sure.”

“I just think it might help you sleep.”

Isak nods, just to make Even stop talking about this, “I’ll think about it.”

“Thank you.”

“Whatever.”

Even laughs. Unlike most people who are turned off by Isak’s negative attitude and general unpleasantness, Even seems to find Isak’s grumpy attitude amusing, his snippy comments endearing.

Today, the lighter shades of blue in Even’s eyes are the most prominent.

Isak notices the small freckle that rests on the corner of his eye and licks his lips, eyes settling on the fabric of Even’s jean jacket.

“Hey boys!”

Magnus’ arms is suddenly dropped onto Isak’s shoulder carelessly, causing the boy to let out a loud grunt.

Isak lets out a loud sigh, “Hey Magnus.”

“How are we this morning?”

Even laughs as he fists bumps the boy’s and Isak’s eyes move away from the smile placed on his face.

And that’s when his eyes catch _his_.

Chris.

He stands a few yards away, eyes directly on Isak’s own. He’s surrounded by the usual crowd – The Penetrators – but he isn’t even bothering to pretend to be paying attention to the conversation they’re having. He’s focused solely on Isak.

Isak feels his skin prickle.

Chris has been blowing his phone up with texts for the past two weeks, every morning, every night. But he hasn’t confronted him in school yet and Isak was thankful for that.

The thing was – Chris had always been pushy with Isak. He would push and pull and say just about anything to get Isak to cave and give into him. Sex. Drugs. It didn’t matter.

But the other thing was that Isak has never ignored Chris so intensely before. He’s blown him off for a few days here and there before finally shooting him a text or ringing him late at night, with a bruised face and broken spirit, wanting nothing more than to forget everything in his life.

But he had never ignored him this strongly, for this long, and it seemed that Chris was getting… _frustrated_ with the younger boy.

His light eyes narrowed and glared from across the yard and Isak swallows thickly.

Chris always acted like he didn’t give a shit about Isak’s personal life or personal reasons for wanting the drugs. He acted like it was no big deal that they fucked sometimes and that Isak had to talk himself down from a cliff every time afterwards – skin crawling and mind racing.

Chris’ anger confused Isak but he can feel it. Even now he can see the way the emotions paint the brunette’s expression and holds his stare for a bit too long.

“You alright, Isak?”

Isak turns his head back towards his friends.

“Hmm?”

Jonas’ voice is calm, his eyes worried, “You alright? You look tired.”

Mahdi snorts, signature smile wide and perfectly in place, “That’s a nice way to put it. You look like shit bro.”

Magnus laughs loudly next to Isak’s ear as he sighs, “Thank you, Mahdi. I just haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Still?”

“Still.” Isak smiles widely and happily and very sarcastically as he shoves his friend’s arm off his shoulders “But no worries. Even was just enlightening me on the importance of therapy again and I’m going to go talk to Dr. Skulle about it.” It was a lie but the boys didn’t have to know that.

“Yo,” Magnus begins to babble mindlessly “I went to her once. Chick in insane I swear. She didn’t even- “

Isak tunes him out when he catches the beautiful, brown, sharp ones across from his.

Jonas’ eyes move over Isak’s face slowly, carefully, and Isak just looks back – he’s prepared for the stare by now, his once over, just to make sure Isak isn’t slipping.

When he is finally satisfied with that he sees, he meets his best friend’s eyes directly, giving a small but firm nod.

No promises broken.

.

.

.

 **Chris:** _Party boy. Ur missing out on some good shit._

 **Chris:** _Still playing hard to get I see._

 **Chris:** _That new boy of yours. Even. He down for some fun? I got a bunch of new shit for you._

 **Chris:** _Don’t be a cock tease Isak_

 **Chris:** _Don’t you miss it at all?_

 **Chris:** _Come party with me, party boy._

_._

_._

_._

Isak’s death very well may be at the hands of one very angry Sana Bakkoush one day.

Ever since Isak and Even started this friendship of theirs, Sana has become a little…harsher towards her biology partner. Sana was kind of harsh towards everyone, so Isak was used to it most days, usually he just slept during the class anyway. But lately Sana’s eyes have been a little more severe than usual, lingered a little longer, and always had that sentence burning behind them, _hurt my friend and I’ll kill you._

Isak didn’t ask many questions about how the friendship came to be but he knew Sana and Even were very close. Close enough for Sana wanting to, understandably, protect Even from Isak’s eventual fuck up.

Isak swears that Sana can see it. That she looks at him, knowing exactly what he feels inside. The waiting. He waits as it all builds up inside of him. The gears in his mind shifting and rotating and driving him absolutely insane. The pain and sadness inside of him growing too heavy and pushing him too far.

Isak is always just waiting.

Waiting to fuck up.

Besides pretending – it’s what he does best.

Sometimes Isak feels like there is a fire inside of him. A heat, burning him completely, from the inside out. It grows brighter every day, spreading until his lungs fill with an unbearably thick black smoke, stealing his breath – making it impossible to breath.

The fire sparking from somewhere inside of his brain, caused by all the deeply buried thoughts he hides. All his unsaid words and unthinkable thoughts. Sickness. Darkness.

And the way that Sana stares at him – it’s almost like she knows it too.

“No, Isak,” She sighs harshly, aggravated, “For the fifth time, the answer is not D. It’s A. Now please circle the damn thing. The one time you decide to participate….” She trails off, eyes pointedly fixed on her answer, waiting for Isak to circle it.

“Alright, alright,” Isak finally caves, after at least ten minutes of debating the answer to the test question, and lets out a yawn before finally circling A. Sana is probably right anyway since Isak’s been asleep half this year. “You win. A.”

“Good. Moving on.”

Isak looks over to his partner and smiles.

This is getting easier too. Just being.

Sana’s brows are furrowed in concentration as she reads the next question out loud. Her make-up is light today and her eyes shine lightly under the florescent bulbs above.

When she notices the boy next to her staring, she sighs, looking over, “What?”

“Nothing” Isak chuckles “I just think that if you let yourself, you might actually like me, Sana. Even does.”

Isak isn’t exactly sure when this started happening. Being able to have a casual conversation with people but it feels good.

Sure, he hasn’t been sleeping well and the constant nag for something bitter and sweet still lingers between his teeth and under his tongue, but he’s getting better at controlling it. Slowly, he’s starting to talk instead of over-think. His eyes don’t watch the small movements of the clock so intently and he doesn’t find his mind drifting to whiteness all that much anymore.

He feels like a person, even if it’s a broken one.

“Yeah, well,” Sana replies, “Even is a moron.”

“You’re his best friend” Isak laughs back.

“Exactly. So, I should know better than anyone just how stupid he is.”

Isak nods, his smile growing. That’s something Jonas would say about him.

“Even is too caring and selfless for his own good.” Sana states, like it’s the simplest of facts.

Isak’s phone vibrates loudly on the table before he has a chance to answer and his partner shoots him and look, “And will you turn that damn thing off?”

He sighs, glancing down at it to see a text from his sister.

 **Lea:** _I was thinking we could go out for dinner tomorrow night with Mamma. Pappa is working late so it would just be the 3 of us. I think she’s ready to be out of the house. Let me know :)_

Isak’s stomach fills with an unpleasant kind of lightness.

The same kind of lightness he used to get when he was a young boy, late at night, all alone – eyes wet and fists clenched.

The same kind of lightness he had the first time his Mamma crashed.

The first time his Mamma got mean and violent and disappeared from his life.

 _Dread_.

He recognizes the flip of his stomach and the itch of his skin.

Isak loves that his sister is happy. There’s nothing he wants more in the entire world than for her to be happy and healthy and safe.

Lea has been rushing home every day after to school to spend the day with their mom. She’s been smiling wider and sleeping better and doesn’t need to crawl into Isak’s bed at night anymore.

And Isak gets it. Lea never really got to enjoy their Mamma the way Isak did. Lea was still too little to really understand what was happening when their Mamma crashed for the first time. Isak was older and had more time with her before she had disappeared inside her mind.

She was too young to be too effected the last time she went away. But there is no one she won’t remember it now.

Isak keeps trying to tell her to prepare herself. That if Mamma doesn’t get the real help that she needs that she’s going to go away again. He’s just trying to protect her but Lea is making that so hard when all she does is look up at his brother with wide, hopeful green eyes and says things like, _“But what if it’s different this time, Isak? She’s never stayed this long before. What if she’s getting better?”_

She isn’t.

She can’t get better while their dad is around.

Even if their mom wanted to try to get better she couldn’t.

Just last night, he proved that.

…

_It was quiet and stiff and uncomfortable._

_The Valtersen family sat around the table together for the first time in a very, very long time. Tom had cooked an extravagant meal – meat and potatoes and five different kinds of vegetable – opposed to their usual pizza and Pepsi meals._

_Things were weird._

_Not good, per say, but not bad either._

_Anita is beginning to get used to the reality around her again. She’s been hesitant but real. She is slowly doing more and more things around the house. She gets up every day and showers. She kisses her kids and sends them off to school in the mornings with an “I love you”. She been staying up and watching movies with her husband and children. And she hasn’t picked up a bible once in two weeks, not even when she says her nightly prayers._

_She’s starting to remember things._

_She came into Isak’s room late one night while he was just beginning to drift off to sleep and whispered quietly, “I’m so sorry, baby.” She petted his hair as her lips skimmed his cheek and her breath was shaky and light, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here to protect you.”_

_Isak cried until sleep took his tears away._

_She hasn’t spoken about too much but she’s said a million kinds of words with her stare alone._

_Anita is just as scared as Isak is._

_Tom is the first to speak, “So how was everyone’s day?”_

_Isak pushes a few stray peas around his plate and rolls his eyes. His father hasn’t asked a question like that since Isak was ten years old._

_Isak clears his throat, sips some water, and scratches his nose – sniffing sharply._

_Ever since Anita has been back, his dad has been fake. He acts like just because she’s snapped back into reality for a second that everything is suddenly okay. That he isn’t a piece of shit alcoholic that likes to smack his son around and pretend nothing from the past ever happened._

_Isak can see the small things though. How his eyes dart too quickly around the room, how his leg bounces beneath the table restlessly, how his hands shake as he cuts his meat. He hasn’t had a drink in a few days and he’s coming down. Withdrawal. Isak sees it. He knows it himself._

_Lea smiles, “I got a 5 plus on my English paper.”_

_“That’s amazing, Sweetie. What was- “_

_“I think I should go see a doctor.” Anita cuts in suddenly and everyone’s eyes fly to her._

_Her own eyes are downcast, her small body hunched over on itself, her posture stiff._

_“I’m sorry?”_

_Anita is quiet for a while, the silence filling the room heavily, bouncing off the walls and echoing back loudly in Isak’s ears._

_Isak feels a nervousness begin to build in his stomach and he looks over to Lea, who in turn, looks back at him – they exchange a knowing glance and begin to brace themselves._

_Lea’s hand reaches out for her brothers under the table and Isak doesn’t hesitate to clutch it in his own._

_“I was thinking…maybe I should go down to the hospital and speak to someone.”_

_“But you’ve been good.”_

_“And I want to stay that way.” Anita says, looking straight at her husband now._

_Her eyes are still dull and slightly sunken in, her skin still graying around the edges, but she’s starting to gain some of her weight back and fill in more. She’s starting to look more like Isak’s mother._

_“I don’t understand.” Tom replies – clearing his throat and shifting uncomfortably in his chair._

_And, no, of course he wouldn’t understand._

_Lea squeezes Isak’s hand and he’s never been so grateful for his sister. She keeps him grounded and safe._

_Anita lets out a soft, sad kind of sigh, she already feels defeated and the conversations hasn’t even started. She looks down again._

_“I just…think I should talk to someone. Maybe they can tell me what’s wrong this time. Maybe I can get some actual answers. Maybe – “_

_“– they can put you on medication and tell you that you’re crazy and give you the easy way out? I don’t think so. You know those people Anita. Remember the last time you were there? They strapped you down to a bed for god sakes!”_

_Anita continues to stare at her lap, twisting her fingers nervously. She didn’t remember the last time because, she wasn’t there._

_"I was getting violent.” She says softly, embarrassed._

_“Because they were upsetting you.” Tom tries to reason, pinching the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut in clear frustration._

_Their kids continue to sit silently – eyes darting back and forth between their parents – like it was a tennis match._

_Isak feels his heart beat steady at the base of his throat, causing it to clench and feel tight._

_Lea’s fingers lace with his._

_The air in the room starts to push down on Isak’s shoulders and he tries his best to keep himself upright against the force._

_“I’m just saying that – “_

_“You’re not crazy Anita! You just need to be strong.” When Tom’s eyes open, Isak finally notices how bloodshot they are. They look dry and sore. The skin around them is yellow. His voice becomes more frantic and grows louder as he continues, “You need to stop telling yourself something is wrong with you. Everyone has problems, but we deal with them, we don’t all run off into a fairyland until we’re ready to come back out.”_

_Isak clenches his teeth tightly as he listens to his father speak._

_Tom doesn’t know a thing about Isak’s mother. If he thinks she would choose to be lost inside her head, a place that is anything but a fairyland, instead of here with her family, with her kids if she had a choice – he never knew her at all. If he doesn't think she would die for them, or do this all over again just for them. He never knew her in the slightest._

_Just like Isak – Anita is trapped in her sickness. It clings to the walls of her mind and holds her down and surrounds her with darkness. She didn’t choose it, it chose her._

_Everything clicks inside of his head all at once._

_He wants to scream. He wants to yell in Tom’s face and show him what a hypocrite he is. He wants to tell him that he’s the weak one. That he hides behind anger and lies and bottles every day of his life. Isak wants to show his father the scars on his body and inside of his mind and confront him about how they got there._

_He wants his Mamma to know that it’s not her fault that she gets lost. Her brain is just wired a little differently than everyone else’s. He wants to tell her that sometimes he feels like he’s wired wrong too. He wants to tell her that her mind is beautiful and he’s sorry for every thinking different. He’s sorry for hating her and blaming her._

_She’s here and he loves her and she’s not the problem. So many things happened while she was away that she couldn’t stop, that she doesn’t know the whole truth about, and none of it was her fault._

_But he doesn’t._

_He stays silent and still and hates everything about himself and how weak he is._

_He can feel the pressure of his father’s fingers around his throat and the pain of strong knuckles hitting his ribs and he presses his lips together – sealing his words inside and swallowing them down._

_He’s a coward._

_He doesn’t notice how tightly he’s gripping his sister’s hand until she lets out a pained sounding whisper beside him, “Isak!”_

_He looks at her and lets out a surprised gasp, loosening his hold immediately, apologizing with his eyes._

_“Tom,” Anita says quietly, still not looking at her husband. “I’m not saying I’m crazy. I’m saying I’m sick.”_

_“That’s just a different way of saying the same thing, Anita.”_

_“Tom – “_

_“Enough!” The man’s fist slam down onto the table, making the glasses and silverware rattle and the plates jumps._

_Lea lets out a small, alarmed scream and her nails dig into the skin of Isak’s hand._

_Isak feels his spine stiffen and his body shrink back on instinct at Tom’s outburst._

_He watches helplessly as his mother’s body begins to shake and her head hands lower._

_He should be able to protect her. He should be able to protect Lea and himself. But he’s pathetic and he’s weak and scared and frozen._

_A chill runs through his bones and a throbbing begins in his temples like it always did._

_His instinct to run and hide and pretend is full force_

_He wants to look at his phone and scroll through his texts and find the stupid memes Even sent him earlier and let the thought calm his nerves and steady his heartbeat._

_“Now, I made this nice dinner for us all,” Tom continues, teeth clamped together and fists shaking against the table top “Can we stop talking this foolishness and just have a nice family dinner? Would that be okay with you Anita? Or do you have somewhere else you need to be?”_

_“That’s fine.” She says in a barely audible voice._

_“Good.”_

_They eat the rest of the dinner in silence._

_When Isak manages to get to his bedroom, locking the door quickly behind him, the first thing he does is call  Even._

_His breathing slows almost instantly when Even answers. He asks Isak what’s wrong and when Isak doesn’t give him an answer, he moves on – always knowing what to do, even if he didn’t know what was going on._

_“Let me show you something.” He said before hanging up the phone without saying goodbye._

_Isak learns that Even also likes to paint – because that’s what he’s doing when they facetime._

_“It’s not supposed to be perfect, Isak!” Even told him when he burst out laughing, telling Even how horrible it was. “It’s art! It’s supposed to evoke emotion. It doesn’t matter if the picture is sloppy or crooked.”_

_He smiles wide and had orange paint smeared across his nose. His cheeks were flushed and Isak heard crappy pop music playing in the distance._

_“That picture is ugly, Even.”_

_“This look me two fucking hours!”_

_“And what emotion is a painting of an ugly deformed cat supposed to provoke from me, huh?”_

_“Well, it made you laugh, didn’t it?” Even observes, his eyes remain soft as he speaks, “So happiness then.”_

_Isak’s eyes stay on Even’s. Bright and inviting._

_He looks at Even and feels his heartbeat in his fingertips and a tingle in his stomach._

_“Okay.” Isak agrees in a whisper, “Happiness.”_

_Even’s stupid poorly designed cat painting makes Isak smile himself to sleep._

.

.

.

 **Lea:** _Sound good??_

Isak sighs - something in his chest shifting uncomfortably as he texts back.

 **Isak** _: Sounds good :)_

.

.

.

 **Eva:** _Hey! You missed a great party. Chris’ new shit is so fucking good. Where have you been?_

 **Eva:** _Hellllllo? Isak?_

 **Eva:** _Alright, I feel like you’re officially ignoring me :(_

 **Eva:** _Saw you in school today. Look like shit. Come by for a pick-me-up._

 **Eva:** _Chris has been asking abt you_

 **Eva** _ **:** _ _I miss u_

 **Eva:** _Isak?_

_._

_._

_._

This was new.

Different.

 _Good_.

Usually, for Isak, parties – even the tamer ones he went to with his friends, involved hard drugs. Lots and lots of hard drugs. He would snort line after line – pairing it dangerously with alcohol and weed and anything else he could get his hands on until he couldn’t remember why he needed it in the first place.

Until he couldn’t feel anything. Until he couldn’t remember his own name.

But this was different.

It was Friday night and the boys decided they wanted to go to another one of Emma’s house parties.

He’d done a total of two shots tonight and was now nursing a beer. He was slightly buzzed from the weed Even so kindly provided to him and he just felt…good.

He could focus on the people and conversations going on around him. He wasn’t stumbling or mumbling his way through the house. His vision wasn’t blurred and his speech wasn’t slurred and he was having fun.

Real fun.

It had been a while since Isak felt himself laugh a genuine laugh. The kind that just bubbles naturally inside of your chest, falling from your lips without command, not needing to be pushed or forced or faked.

He was currently sitting in the bathroom while his friends joke and laugh around him. Mahdi, Magnus, and Jonas were lined up in the bathtub, legs hanging over the edge, passing a bong back and forth. Jonas had stolen Even’s useless sunglasses and was wearing them just for shits and giggles. He and Even were sitting on the counter across the way, sink in between them, Even was smiling happily while puffing on his joint – listening as Magnus continues to ramble from across the room about he almost hooked up with a third year the other night.

Isak sips his beer and smiles.

When he glances over at Even, he pauses for a moment just to look, and then turns away again.

When Isak is high like this he can let the thoughts creep in without any guilt.

So he does.

Even’s eyes look so fucking brilliant under these lights and his lips look sweet like candy. His hair is pushed back under a ridiculous pink bandanna and he’s in short sleeves, no jacket. The light catches his scars every once in a while and Isak has to look away.

But Even is just smiling and laughing and talking.

The boys had to have noticed Even’s scars at some point these last few weeks but they haven’t said anything.

Isak wonders if he’s the only one who can’t not stare. The only one who is filled to the brim with questions that he isn’t allowed to ask.

Isak knows Even to be warm and passionate and excitable. Friendly and happy and fast talking and ready for life.

Those scars tell a story of darkness though – just like the darkness that runs heavily inside of Isak’s mind.

He just wants to know.

“…and then she just stops, looks at me, and before I can ask her what’s wrong… shevomits! All over my fucking shoes and shit.” Magnus shrugs – no big deal “Smelled like balls. I didn’t even bother washing them, just threw them away. But like, before that, she was totally into the kiss and everything.” He adds casually before placing his lips to the bong again.

Isak chuckles along with the boys.

It’s weird. This new feeling of being able to relax around his friends.

Isak loves the boys. They’re kind and funny and put up with his shit – no matter how horrible of a friend he is in return.

But he’s never been able to be this comfortable around them. This relaxed. And it’s not their fault, not in the slightest. It’s all Isak.

He’s always hiding behind himself, pretending – scared and small and angry. He gets worked up when he has to lie about girls and sex and being normal. And when the anger builds into bitterness, the bitterness builds into resentment and his guard is always up with them. That’s when he would usually wander away to snort a few more lines or try to score a pretty blue pill from someone at the party without them noticing.

But Even makes this easier too.

Letting himself be their friends right now instead of constantly being his own enemy.

His chest had never felt so free of its usual weight.

“Hey,” Even calls, causing Isak to look over to him with sleepy eyes.

“Hmmm?”

“Wanna ditch them and smoke outside?”

Isak smiles.

Even was good at ideas too.

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still with me? Still enjoying? Let me know. Feedback fuels this shit! 
> 
> Soooooo I know this was a bit of a filler chapter but I also hope it showed you how Isak and Even's relationship can continue to grow from this point. This chapter was a way for me to show that even though Isak isn't anywhere near okay yet and this story has a long way to go...he's letting Even in. He doesn't know it yet exactly but Even's definitely about the stir some things up in his life. It's a step in the right direction. The first step.
> 
> More Even and more answers next chapter!


	12. A Heart Like Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! 
> 
> So, here's what happened. It was a totally normal day and I was living my totally normal life after getting TEN WHOLE CHAPTERS of this story written ahead and everything was great! And then it wasn't. My computer crashed and I lost all of the chapters I wrote and at the time I unfortunately didn't back them up on my flash drive yet. I usually do that as soon as I post them on ao3 but, obviously, since I hadn't posted them yet I completely forgot to back them up. Yes, I'm an idiot. I've learned my lesson. Long story short...it took me three days to even TRY to pick myself up start re-writing everything I had written because I was so upset about my work being lost :( 
> 
> But I eventually did! I kind of cried through the whole re-writing process and stopped at least 15 times to tell myself to just give up and never post anything ever again but I managed to talk myself off that ledge each time.
> 
> I now have 5 of the lost chapters rewritten and I'm working on the rest. So, hopefully, this time I'm actually going to be able to start posting more frequently.
> 
> Also, my apologies if this chapter sucks or seems slightly rushed because I was getting really down on myself while writing it and telling myself it wasn't as good as my first draft of it :/ The following chapters will be back on track!
> 
> .
> 
> Thank you to everyone who is still here with me<3\. All of your lovely comments and feedback is what really helped me to get back up and write, write again! 
> 
> Please ignore my silly grammar/spelling mistakes.  
> .
> 
> A FEW NOTES/WARNINGS: 
> 
> \- A lot of you have been really excited about the growth between Isak and Even and the new friendship they're forming so I wanted to give a bit of a warning for this chapter. It gets rocky at the end. But NO WORRIES. This is NOT a huge step backwards or anything. The conversation Isak and Even have at the end of this chapter may seem like a slap in the face to your excitement but I'm just asking you to have a little faith and patience with me (and with Isak). Isak and Even only continue to grow from here and their conversation is necessary for that. I promise! I really promise I have your back on this one :) Next chapter is Even's apartment and a lot of Evak.
> 
> \- Don't forget to check the tags & warnings for this story and always proceed with caution.
> 
> \- I know this story is dark and can get very hard to read but I wanted to really thank every single one of you who is still giving this a chance and has faith that I can turn this around<3\. I have really big plans for this story and it's so fucking important to me and I hope the things I'm trying to get across are able to help someone, somewhere who has had similar struggles. Your support means the world!

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_“The worst distance between two people is misunderstanding.”_

 

_......_

 

Isak couldn’t sleep.

Which wasn’t a very unusual thing, except that tonight it wasn’t just that he couldn’t sleep.

He was being kept up.

The screaming blared through his thin white walls and only continued to grow with each passing hour.

He felt like it was only minutes ago that he last checked the time through weak, sore, tired eyes as it blinked 00.00 steadily back at him. He looked now though and saw that it was already 03.00 and he hasn’t closed his eyes once. He felt as though he hadn’t even blinked.

He stared blankly at the chips and cracks in the ceiling above, he tried to make the lines connect and create pictures, and focused on keeping his breathing relatively calm despite his hearts rabid beating and the sick, toxic feeling that filled his body and made his bones ache.

While Isak still had his promise to Jonas kept, it seems like Tom fell off of the wagon, and Anita was around this time to receive he brunt of it instead of him.

He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help but feel guilty. He can’t help but feel like he should get up, walk out his door, and let himself be on the receiving end once again.

He was, after all, the reason Tom was so angry all the time.

It was probably best if the punches were thrown his way.

Tom was never physical with Anita, just like he was never physical with Lea, no, that was something he only saved for Isak. But his words were loud and disgusting. They made Isak’s insides clench and his blood to run hot.

And contrary the heat running through his body – Tom’s shouts turned Isak’s spine to ice.

He could imagine his mom out there on her own, small and broken and scared, cowered in a corner and shaking – wishing she was stronger, wishing she was braver, wishing she was better. Wishing she could do something to make it stop. Anything.

Isak knew the thoughts that would be running through her mind.

Isak knew the feeling well. He felt it every time Tom towered his body over his son’s and spit something cruel in his direction. It was the feeling Isak carried with him day in and day out. It was the lingering touch on his skin and the harrowing spaces in his mind.

And tonight, even though the words weren’t directed towards him this time, each one rang loudly in his mind, burned his skin, heart his heart.

_Bitch._

_Psycho._

_Cunt._

_Ungrateful._

Isak was angry.

He was always so fucking angry.

Under each emotion there was always a underlying feeling of anger carrying it all.

He had managed to push it down for a while. Instead he focused on controlling the burn on the back of his tongue and wrapped his mind around the beauty of the color blue in the morning sunlight.

Whenever he wanted to scream he thought about a loud bewitching laugh that touched something in his chest. Whenever he wanted to cry he thought about a certain stupid jean jacket. Whenever he felt like disappearing completely he thought about Romeo + Juliet.

Without realizing it – he thought about Even.

But now the familiar feeling slams back into him with an unsettling kind of force and certainty.

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to explain this feeling. He’s tried to, a few times, to Jonas. But he can never find the right words.

How can he?

How can he possible explain and communicate just how awful this feeling is?

To feel like he has absolutely no control over anything. This feeling – like he’s being swallowed whole by a darkness inside of him. His entire body burning hot and heavy, as his head throbs and the heat continues to pulse through his veins and bury itself deep within his muscles and grow around his heart and wedge itself in between his bones, connecting him, becoming a part of him fully.

 How it makes his throat feel tight and his chest feel heavy yet empty at the same time. His words get stuck in his throat when all he wants to do is scream at the top of his lungs. But he is stuck in silence. His bitterness and stubbornness and frustration not letting him formulate his thoughts into words even when he wants to – when it’s all he ever wants to do.

This feeling that fills him until all he can see is the fire behind his eyes – telling him to hurt and run and destroy everything in his path.

How could he tell someone that he can’t handle this? That, yes, he’s _that_ weak and this pain…this anger is burning him from the inside out.

That it’s not fair. Nothing in his life is ever fucking fair and all he wants to be is okay…nothing more and nothing less. Just okay.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been doing it – lost inside his mind, his thoughts consuming him completely –  but as soon as he catches himself, his fist clenched and hitting his thigh over and over, again and again, he stops. It’s been a little bit since he’s caught himself doing this.

It used to happen more frequently.

He would bite his nail down too far, eventually reaching the skin underneath but refusing to stop, making himself bleed and the skin there sting until Jonas pulled his hand away from his mouth and gave him a sad look.

He would bury his hands in his hair and pull and pull until his scalp was completely numb to the pain.

He would let his nails push harshly into the skin of his palm, until the color red began to pool and his mind focused on the stinging of his hands instead of the pulsing pain in his chest.

He would punch his own body again and again and again until dark purple bruises blossomed from beneath the skin and colored his limbs brightly.

“Do you know what it’s been like Anita?” Isak hears his father slur and stumble and fall in the next room. Anita doesn’t answer, at least not verbally. “Do you? Huh? How fucking hard it got after you left? What that boy put me through? Do you?”

Isak closes his eyes, clenching his teeth tightly, letting him mind scream silently.

It’s not fair.

None of this is fucking fair.

For him. For Anita. For Lea.

It wasn’t his fault. None of it was his fault.

He was just a kid.

And the sickness found him too early.

Isak can feel his heartbeat everywhere. It pounds against his chest and thumps beneath his eyelids. He can feel the thrum of it travel through his arms and legs and he clenches the dirty sheets between his fingers.

He can suddenly feel a phantom weight on top of him – holding him down and making it impossible for him to escape.

He tries to catch his breath.

_That’s it, angel. Just relax._

_It’s okay. It’s supposed to be this way._

_It’ll be our little secret okay, Isak? Just between you and me._

_Mamma and Pappa never have to know._

Isak’s teeth clench even tighter, his jaw burning now, as he reaches for his phone – needing something, _someone_ , to take his mind away from here.

He scrolls to the name that has become so familiar to him these past few weeks.

 **Isak:** _hey_

He sends it before he has time to think about the fact that Even probably isn’t even up right now and he won’t reply for another few hours and Isak is just going to have to figure out a way to calm down on his own –

But then, Even is typing back, and replying.

 **Even:** _Hey! What are you doing up? Still can’t sleep?_

Isak’s lungs slowly start to work again. He sucks in the air slowly through his nose and lets it be released even slower through his mouth.

 **Isak:** _nah. What abt u? Why are you up? Aren’t you usually in bed by 21?_

Even was an early to bed, early to rise kind of person. He usually never answered texts after 23.00 and always messages back before 06.00. 

**Even:** _Are you saying I’m boring?_

 **Isak:** _Maybe not boring but…you watch romantic comedies from the 80s and paint pictures of cats in your free times so…_

 **Even:** _Oh! So just lame then?_

 **Isak:** _The lamest._

 **Even:** _What does that say about you then? Being friends with such a lame person?_

Isak doesn’t even notice the smile on his face – reaching ear to ear. He doesn’t notice the screaming in the next room begin to quiet and fade.

He doesn’t notice the way his heart begins to slow and return to its normal rhythm.

He doesn’t notice that the anger inside of him has begun to settle into a slow simmer.

Just from a few simple texts.

He doesn’t notice just how natural and easy this has become.

Even has this natural unexplainable effect on Isak. He doesn’t know what it is or where it comes from but it’s instant and indescribably. He feels comfortable with him. He feels relaxed and able to joke without his underlying defensiveness playing a part like with the boys. Without an anger or a shield or the need to pretend.

He can’t stop it or resist it.

He doesn’t want to.

This is the only good thing in his life…

 **Isak:** _about that…I’ve been having second thoughts._

 **Even:** _Oh? Why am I just hearing about this now?_

 **Isak** _: I didn’t know how to break it to you._

 **Even:** _but you pinky promised! The most sacred of promises._

 **Isak** _: I cannot continue to be friends with a 12 yr old it’s weird_

 **Even:** _Well, at least Mr. JoJo still cares about me_

 **Isak:** _who the fuck is mr. jojo?_

 **Even:** _Uhmmmm????_

 **Isak:** _??_

 **Even:** _I told you this the other day! My cat!_

 **Isak:** _the ugly painting?_

 **Even:** _1\. He’s art. 2. Uhm, yes. MY CAT. Mr. Jojo._

 **Isak** _: 1. his whole face is crooked 2. I’m embarrassed for you._

 **Even** _: Are you saying crooked face doesn’t deserve kindness too?_

 **Isak** _: omg_

 **Even:** _Regret this whole friend thing yet?_

Isak pauses for a moment before he replies.

He finally begins to take notice of the grin overtaking his face and the looseness of his muscles, the calmness of his mind, and the lightness in his chest. The way his stomach dances pleasantly and how he doesn’t even think about Chris’ number resting safely in his phone.

So he replies –

 **Isak** : no

 **Even** : I knew it ;)

Eventually, Even stops texting and Isak wonders what he’s dreaming about. Does he sleep on the left or right side of the bed? One pillow or two?

He lets his eyes close and imagines what Even looks like while he sleeps, under nothing but the soft light of the moon, until he catches himself and makes himself stop.

He waits until he begins to hear the birds start to chirp, and the morning sunlight streams through the curtains and touches his eyelids.

He walks to the bathroom on shaky legs, his right thigh sore and aching, and his mind screaming for sleep.

He can’t feel his anger so strongly anymore.

.

.

.

The air in the room is tense.

Lea is already sitting at the kitchen table, eating pancakes and eggs when Isak comes shuffling out – unshowered but dressed for school.

Anita is sitting across from her daughter, swimming in a large pink sweatshirt, clutching a mug of steaming tea between her frail bony fingers.

She smiles at Isak when he enters the room but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

Every time Anita smiles at Isak these days, he feels like crying. He remembers what her smile used to be. So full of light and life and happiness that she couldn’t contain it. It was real and contagious and one of Isak’s favorite things in the entire world.

Not Anita’s smile was forced and vacant.

Just like Isak’s own.

She’s still here with them, but she’s also never looked this far away. The slight pink color that was finally beginning to color her cheeks and light up her face is gone. She’s back to dull and gray and empty and Isak wants to scream at Tom and make him as miserable as he makes this family.

Although, Isak is pretty sure he does a good job of being miserable all by himself.

“Good morning baby,” Anita greets him tenderly, sipping her tea.

Lea smiles at him as he sits beside her and grabs a single piece of toast from her plate. Her eyes are sleep drooped the same as his. Her hair is tossed into a lazy pony-tail and her clothes are more wrinkled than usual. She obviously didn’t get a lot of sleep either.

“Mornin’ Mamma,” He mumbles around a mouthful of bread. “Mornin’ Lea.”

He doesn’t ask where his father is or how his mother is doing after last night. He knows he should, but he just can’t.

Another thing the Valtersens have never been good at – confrontation.

Instead, he stares pointedly down at the table and leans back in his chair as is creaks and rocks under his weight. He focuses on the soreness of his bruises and the dryness of his toast.

His phone vibrates in his pocket and he scratches the back of his neck pointlessly.

“Oh, you have to eat more than that, honey. I’m able to use the stove again. I made a lot.”

“I’m okay,” Isak doesn’t look up “Not that hungry.” It’s a lie and everyone knows when his stomach grumbles loudly.

There is a pause.

Lea shifts uncomfortably in her chair.

Anita coughs and clears her throat, slurping more tea.

Isak’s nose begins to itch.

Anita speaks, “I know we had the evening planned for tonight” She speaks slowly and carefully and Isak can already feel his sister begin to tense beside him and his stomach sinks, “Going out to dinner and all, but your father is…sick. He got sick last night and I have to take care of him tonight.”

Isak almost laughs at his mom’s excuse.

He wants to be angry at her. Angry for so pointedly avoiding the truth, angry for her lack of strength against her husband, he wants to be angry that she’s choosing the easy way out and letting her kids suffer because of it.

But he can’t be angry.

Because, well, that would make him kind of a hypocrite, wouldn’t it?

He may be a liar and a shit but he tries to draw the line at extreme hypocrisy.

Isak doesn’t need to look over at Lea to know that she’s crushed – her lips pulled down into a frown and her eyes reflecting her sadness.

Lea’s always been an open book. She’s strong, yes, but she’s also emotional. She’s emotional and expressive and unashamed.

“We’ll reschedule though, okay?” Anita tries to reassure her daughter, but fails miserably, “I promise. We’ll do it some night soon.”

Isak reaches over under the table and takes his sister’s hand in his own. He squeezes it gently but this time, unlike most, she doesn’t squeeze back. However, she doesn’t pull away either.

Her voice is small and hurt when she answers with a simple, “Okay Mamma.”

Isak’s phone vibrates again but he ignores it.

Lea and Isak walk side by side to the tram in silence and when they part ways Lea doesn’t hug him like she usually does.

She just mumbles an unclear, “See ya”, as her eyes stay fixed on the ground.

Isak wishes more than anything that he could take her disappointment and make it his own.

He’s gotten good at not expecting things from his parents. If you expect nothing, then you won’t be disappointed when you get nothing.

And while Lea might be able to do this with their father, she hasn’t learned about the disappointment that comes with their mother yet.

It’s a lesson that she has to learn, no matter how much Isak wishes he could protect her from it.

.

.

.

 **Chris:** _I need to talk to you_

 **Chris:** _Like just talk_

 **Chris** _: It’s important_

.

.

.

When Isak arrives at school the boys are already there. They’re gathered in their usual corner of the school yard – talking and laughing loudly.

Isak moves slowly and tiredly towards them, his eyes finding Even first, without meaning for them to.

The sunlight catches the deep blue colors in Even’s eyes and makes his teeth sparkle whiter as he tosses his head back carelessly and laughs at something Mahdi said.

Isak bites his lip and tightens his hold on his backpack straps.

He doesn’t really know whether he’s happy that Even has fallen in so quickly with his friends or if he’s jealous. He might be a mixture of both.

On the one hand, he likes knowing that he’s not the only one effected by Even Bech Næsheim. It’s not weird that Isak feels drawn to the older boy with annoyingly perfect hair and a worn down old jean jacket, because it seems that everyone is as well.

On the other hand, it’s like the first time Isak seen Even all over again. The way he glided so confidently across the yard, calm and collected and breathtaking.

Envy sneaking up on Isak without any warning.

_How?_

How is Even so comfortable with himself? He’s so calm and at ease that it sets Isak’s teeth on edge. He doesn’t seem to have a worry in the world as he smiles so brightly and walks past people with his back straight and his shoulders squared.

How is it so easy for him to just _be,_ when it takes absolutely everything inside of Isak, every last ounce of strength and power, just to fake a smile, force a laugh, act okay.

Isak sniffs sharply and glares at his phone when it vibrates again from his pocket.

He quickly deletes a few texts from Chris and hurries over to his friends.

“Aye! Look who it is!” Magnus spots him first and yells excitedly, like he hasn’t seen his friend in weeks rather than just a day or two. His face lights up and his cheeks flush pink.

Magnus has always been overly excitable and easily placated. He always seems so sincerely happy to see Isak. Only god knows why. Isak is a shit friend.

“Where have you been?” Mahdi asks – smiling and putting his fist out for a bump.

Isak touches his knuckles to his friend’s and shrugs, “The tram was late.” This time his excuse isn’t a lie.

He stops and lets himself fall into the circle the boys have created for themselves.

Isak looks up at Even.

His eyes are always so warm despite their bright cold color.

Isak’s continuously embarrassed after texting Even a little too late some nights. Even never makes it uncomfortable or awkward but Isak can see it in the blonde’s eyes. The questions and the worry and the concern that he never voices, because Isak won’t let him. He laughs and shrugs the questions off and hurries to class before Even can ever get too serious with him.

Isak doesn’t want to be worried about. He doesn’t want to be cared for. He’s already enough of a burden as it is.

He holds Even eyes for a few beats. He’s gotten a little better at ignoring the chest flutters now.

Even doesn’t look away, in fact, he stares deeper and stronger, like he’s trying to tell Isak something without words. 

Isak wishes he could read the boy’s mind. 

His ice blue eyes flicker with emotions but Isak can’t quite pick out which ones. 

His stomach hurts.

He shifts his gaze over to the right.

Jonas’ eyes are worried but safer. They don’t make Isak’s stomach flip or his heart shift inside his chest. That feeling stopped a while back with Jonas. His eyes are comfortable and harmless. This gaze is easy.

His eyes run over the blonde’s face a few times before he lets out a small sigh, eyebrows furrowing and lips pulling downwards, “I thought you said you were going to see that doctor yesterday. You still look like shit. Did you sleep at all?”

“Yeah man,” Magnus adds, with an unusual seriousness to his tone of voice, “I’m starting to worry, dude. You look really bad.”

Isak pushes his fingertips into the bruise on his thigh and lets the ache there ground him.

Four pairs of worried eyes remain on his face as he moves his eyes to stare at the dirt below their feet.

The lie that leaves his lips is instant and instinctive, “I totally forgot. I’ll go today. I mean…I did sleep a little. Just not much.”

He catches the glance when he looks up, Even and Jonas’ eyes meeting for a moment, an exchange that Isak sees but doesn’t understand. Something passes between the boys and Isak’s stomach twists.

_What the fuck?_

He knows he’s not paranoid now. He thought maybe he was reading too far into the situation with his friends. Maybe he was just a little jealous that they were bonding without him.

But he knows that look in Jonas’ eyes. He’s seen that look. He’s been given that look. He’s communicating something to Even with his gaze and Isak doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like it one bit.

Before anyone has a chance to speak again, the first bell rings, causing the boys to wave awkwardly at each other and shuffle away mumbling light, “later, bros” at each other.

Until it’s just Even and Isak – face to face.

Even’s face is calm and sunlit, his stare is undemanding and casual seeming, but Isak can feel the weight of his eyes on his skin, he stares back through his lashes and presses harder against his bruise.

Even’s expression is wide open for Isak to see.

Isak swallows and blinks up at him, “Thank you for last night.”

Even’s lips pull up, “No problem. Although, I am still offended by the horribly offensive way you refer to Mr. Jojo.”

A laugh bubbles from behind Isak’s lips without his permission and it makes Even smile higher, showing his teeth.

“You weren’t on the tram this morning.” Isak points out.

Even’s eyebrows raise, “I thought I was the one who annoyingly pointed out the obvious?”

Isak smirks, his fingers start to just hover above his bruise now, not pressing, “Am I annoying you?”

The older boy chuckles, “I got my car fixed,”

It’s Isak’s turn to raise his brows, he tilts his head and looks at Even in question, rocking on his heels “You have a car?”

“Mhm. It was in the shop for a while. That’s why I was taking the tram in the first place. All fixed now though.”

“Oh.”

Isak tries to keep the disappointment from clouding his response. He thinks about the sleepy tram rides home spent with his head resting on Even’s shoulder, lulling in and out on consciousness. He thinks about the bright and early morning rides filled with too-high smiles and too-loud words and unneeded commentary on the downfall of the thriller genre of today that Isak didn’t really mind at all even though he pretended to be annoyed.

But then Even speaks, “Want a ride home after school?”

Isak doesn’t hesitate, “Okay.”

.

.

.

The day, like most, drags on slowly and Isak gets seven more texts from Chris stating how urgent and important it is that Isak get in touch with him as soon as possible. Isak deletes them all.

And when the last bell of the day rings, Isak is outside meeting Even faster than he realizes.

Even’s car is old and run down with chipping green paint and a few too many dents but Even smiles at it like it’s his actual human child. He says it was a gift from his father on his sixteenth birthday.

“Her name is Sweetpea” He tells Isak as he pats its hood affectionately.

Isak rolls his eyes, “Of course it is.”

“I’m not lame. It’s not my fault you don’t have the ability to feel, Isak.”

Even asks Isak if he wants to come over for a movie marathon and Isak finds himself saying yes, for reasons more than just not wanting to be home.

Now, Even has the windows cracked just slightly, the cool breeze is refreshing and soothing against his skin, and the radio is off. The air in the car is silent and simple. Even fingertips tap an uneven pattern onto the steering wheel as he hums quietly to himself, bobbing his head along.

Even’s presence fills the entire car. Every inch of it is touched by him. From the old-school CDs that litter the floor beneath Isak’s feet, to the spare t-shirts tossed messily on the back seat, to the filled notebooks piled behind the driver’s seat.

Even’s scent hovers around Isak. Strong but subtle. It’s masculine but fills the air so sweetly. Isak can taste it on his tongue and feel it on his skin and his body shivers from all of it hitting him at once.

Even keeps not-so-subtly sneaking glances at the younger boy beside him. He seems to be waiting for Isak to speak first, sensing there is something on his mind.

Isak isn’t quite sure what to say, however.

The words just kind of hang back in his mind as he stares blankly out the window.

Isak wants to feel comfortable, and he would, normally. He’s always comfortable with Even. If it wasn’t for the question burning on the tip of his tongue.

Eventually, Even helps him out, “Just ask. Whatever it is, just ask.”

So, Isak does, “What’s the deal with you and Jonas?” He blurts out the question before he can rethink, over think, and change his mind.

“What do you mean?”

Isak turns his head to look at Even’s profile. Even doesn’t look back even as they stop at the red light a few blocks away from the school now.

Isak tries to find something in Even’s mostly blank gaze. He tries to look for the obvious tells of a liar, of a hider, of a pretender. He knows them all fairly well. He’s gotten good at covering them up himself – perfecting the art of running from people. Running from the truth.

He finds nothing though.

No reason to believe he isn’t genuinely asking what Isak means. No tip off that he’s playing ignorant on purpose.

Either Isak was wrong initially about Even being a bad liar or he honestly doesn’t know what Isak’s asking. In which case, it would mean it’s just Isak’s paranoia and defensiveness flaring up. He gets like this sometimes. So worried that people will find out the truth, so worried that people will look right through him, be able to spot his lies, see the sickness dug into his brain and onto his skin, and see him for what he really is, see his real colors – ugly and faded and chipped just like Sweetpea.

He gets distrustful and obsessive and angry. This is when his body tenses too tightly and his temper is constantly on edge, wound into a coil just waiting to snap. He yells at his friends and makes himself mean – mean enough for nobody to want to look to closely, mean enough for everyone to stay away, giving no chance of seeing anything they shouldn’t.

He doesn’t want to be this way with Even. He doesn’t want his diseased brain to corrupt the friendship they’ve build here. Even is warm and kind. Even is made up of happy laughs and new ideas and passionate words. He’s goodness and the first sip of a fresh cup of coffee. He’s late night talks and long walks and endless possibilities.

He’s foolish and trustful and just a text message away most nights.

And it isn’t Even’s fault.

It’s not Even’s fault that Isak’s brain is screwed up. It isn’t his fault that Isak’s heart doesn’t beat the same pattern of emotions as his does. As anybody’s does.

His heart just works differently and he doesn’t know if he’d ever be able to explain it in a way that people would understand. 

And, most of all, he doesn’t _want_ Even to know that. To see that.

Even would run as far away as he possibly could if he saw Isak for what he really was.

Sick.

“Come on,” Isak laughs, trying to cover up the rising panic inside of him, “It’s like you two are speaking your own language sometimes. It’s fucking weird.”

Isak keeps his eyes focused on the other boy, Even glancing over as the car begins to move again, and he lets out a choppy laugh.

“A secret language?”

Isak nods, “Yeah, you like…exchange these weird looks that no one else can see and shit.”

Isak’s short bitten-down nails scrape against the thick material of his jeans as fidgets in his seat.

Even nods and hums and laughs a little, “Weird look exchanging, huh?” There is a humor in his voice that makes Isak’s eyes string.

He touches his bruise again – this time laying his flat palm against his leg and leaning his weight down.

“Well, I can tell you exactly what that is.” Even says seriously, looking over at Isak again, “Jonas and I are secret lovers of course.”

Isak freezes.

His eyes go wide, and they don’t leave Even’s profile. He notices the way Even’s lips are turned up and how his voice is untroubled, completely smooth – like he’s telling the funniest and most uncomplicated of jokes.

But Isak can’t laugh. He can’t joke back or play along or pretend this time.

This is different.

Isak feels the hair on his arms stand straight. He pushes more of his weight down and blinks rapidly – trying to stop his eyes from watering from the ache.

Even flicks his teasing gaze over to Isak once again but this time Isak can’t help but shrink away. He suddenly feels himself left wide open for Even’s eyes to see. He feels small and exposed.

His paranoia kicking in full gear – _why would he say that? Does he know? Can he see it? What did I do wrong thing time? How did I let it slip?_

Isak’s words are low and shaky and afraid as he questions barely above a whisper, “You’re gay?”

The word stings his tongue on the way out, his body wanting to fold in on itself, his mind begging for protection from these sudden feelings.

Vulnerable.

Terrified.

Alone.

Isak’s throat begins to squeeze tightly as Even answers, “No.”

Even doesn’t seem to notice Isak’s current dilemma as he turns the radio up a bit to break some of the silence – crappy pop music now filling the car.

Isak frowns in confusion, “bisexual?”

“Nope.”

Isak’s face, at this point, obviously shows his extreme confusion because as Even stops at the next red light – he turns towards the blonde beside him and lets his eyes run over his red-flushed expression. He laughs, clearly amused by Isak’s ignorance.

Even licks his pink lips, tilting his head and keeping his eyes soft, “There’s more than three sexualities, Isak.” He tells him – voice lax “Haven’t you ever been on Tumblr?”

Isak knows his words are supposed to be teasing and possibly comforting, but all he can feel right now is panic. Panic and worry.

Fight or flight.

His cheeks flush further and his hands are shaking. He clenches them into fists, hoping Even won’t be able to notice the quiver of his legs either.

He doesn’t know why exactly – he never had.

There are no completely clear thoughts or imagines inside his mind, no well thought out reasons or explanations. It’s all reactive. All Instinctual. And all he knows is that no one can know. No one can see this part of him. Not even Even. Kind, welcoming, warm Even.  

“I’m pansexual.” Even continues – and he finally seems to pick up on Isak’s shift in mood. The way his body tenses and his lips press into a hard line. How there is sweat beginning to pool at his hairline and above his lip. He even notices the way his clench fists still shake.

“Are you okay?”

Isak tries to process Even’s words.

He doesn’t even know what Pansexual means.

“I’m okay,” He chokes out, instead of asking.

He doesn’t want Even to tell him. He doesn’t want to know.

Time seems to move both too slowly and too quickly at the same time.

Isak feels his mind spin, his seat shifting beneath him, his stomach dropping from the dizziness.

It doesn’t matter what Even’s answer would be anyway, because suddenly, all Isak can see is deep ugly crow’s feet and familiar light eyes that make his stomach turn and his skin sweat. All he can hear is sharp laughter and haunting words. All he can feel is pain and sharpness and a weight that won’t let him breathe.

_You’re okay, angel. You just have to relax and everything will be okay._

_You promised to be nice to me remember? This is what nice boys do._

_Breathe, angel._

_Breathe._

Isak pushes and pushes and pushes on the purple spot in the center of his thigh until his eyes can refocus on Even’s worried expression.

The thoughts come and go like this often.

Coming out of nowhere, triggered by the smallest of things, hitting him too hard and unexpectedly.

And then they leave just as quickly.

He looks like he wants to question Isak again, ask if he’s okay once more, but he doesn’t. He hesitates for a moment, mouth opening and closing a few times, before he decides to try and keep things casual, “What about you?”

“Huh?”

“Your sexuality.”

Isak pauses, fist now grinding into his leg, he doesn’t bother stopping when Even’s eyes flick down to the action curiously.

Isak just needs this to go away.

The screaming in his brain and the pain beneath his skin, just behind his lungs, clutching at his ribs.

_I’m right here, angel. I’m right here._

“I’m not a fag if that’s what you’re asking.”

Isak doesn’t let his eyes move from Even’s as the harsh and filthy sounding words pour from his lips. He doesn’t back down as Even’s eyes widen, he doesn’t shy away when he opens his mouth to reply but nothing comes out except a small choked squeak of confusion.

Even’s eyebrows knit together neatly and he stills – just like Isak.

Isak has said these words a hundred times before. He’s spit them angrily or whispered them calmly and even texted them hurriedly to Chris. He’s repeated them over and over again to himself in the privacy of his bedroom and quietly in his mind as well.

But now, with Even looking back at him, hesitant and cautious and worried, the words have never tasted so bitter on his tongue. They’ve never felt as dirty or purposeful.

It’s never felt so wrong.

Both Isak and Even jump slightly when the car behind them blares its horn loudly, signaling that the light has turned green.

The boys both face forward, the air in the car suddenly riddled with tension and unease. The breeze hitting Isak’s face is no longer refreshing, but suffocating.

He closes his eyes and presses even harder into himself.

He wants to say something to fix the unsteadiness. He wants to apologize or back pedal and make Even understand.

The problem is though, that Isak doesn’t know where he would start. He doesn’t understand himself either. He doesn’t know the whys or what’s or when’s. He can’t answer any of the questions Even will have for him.

So, he’s left with this feeling of unsteadiness.

This feeling of misunderstanding.

So, when Even finally answers with a terse, “Okay.”

Isak stays silence.

.

.

.

 **Chris** : _Time to stop ignoring me, Party Boy._

.

.

.

_"I fucking knew that new-kid-goody-good act was bullshit. How the fuck do you really know Isak? Are you how he’s getting it?"_

_Even’s heart was suddenly pounding – beating heavily against the column of his throat._

_It didn’t matter that he hadn’t done anything wrong. Jonas’ stare was firmly placed on him, eyes thin and narrowed, so piercing that it made Even’s spine run cold for a moment. His body was close enough for Even to feel the heat of his skin and smell his strong cologne._

_He has Even backed into the small corner of the kitchen, his lower back pressed uncomfortably into the sharp edge of the counter, a thick cloud of smoke hovering above the room._

_Jonas hadn’t waited for Even to reply to his text. He simply marched over, pushing his way crudely through the crowd of bodies, grabbing Even roughly by the arm and yanking him up and along – and all Even could do was stumble behind pathetically._

_He guessed this answered the question about Jonas being just as protective as Sana._

_There is a fire behind Jonas’ eyes that makes Even lean back slightly, his neck bending back uncomfortably, the counter digging harder into his skin._

_“I’m sorry?” He replies breathily, not sure what else to say._

_Jonas’ eye narrow even further, his cheeks flushed red with anger, lips pulling into a hard line before he spits his words in Even’s direction._

_“You fucking heard me,” He tells him roughly – spit flying from between his lips and landing on Even’s chin. He moves even closer, his presence overpowering and intense, he seems to tower over the older boy despite Even’s height. “Are you giving him the shit?_

_“I really don’t- “_

_And then Jonas removes all the space between the boys. His arms move to rest on both sides of Even’s body – trapping him there like an animal. His face is close enough for his nose to skim Even’s. His breath is heavy and labored and smells strongly of liquor. It makes Even wrinkle his nose and try to back away pointlessly. The air continues to leave his lips and touch Even’s face hotly. Even watches as the veins in Jonas’ neck strain uncomfortably and his lips tremble with his anger._

_For a moment, Even is genuinely nervous that the second year might hit him, his body so tense and tight with the force of his emotions._

_Anger and underlining worry._

_“I fucking knew he had to be getting it more than one place” He continues heatedly, leaving room for Even to do nothing but stay still and listen – eyes wide and mouth hanging open.  Sweat drips down the back of his neck and touches the edge of his shirt “What kind of shit are you giving him? Just the coke or something else?”_

_It’s then that Even notices how tightly Jonas is gripping onto the counter beside him as he wobbles slightly. He notices how unsteady his stance is and how unfocused his eyes are becoming despite his well-focused anger. His arms are shaking as he continues to hold his body up._

_And then his words register and Even’s brows furrow as they process._

_“You think I’m a fucking drug dealer?” He asks, his voice rising, causing a few people strewn around the kitchen to glance their way, before quickly moving on – drunk and uninterested._

_“Don’t pull that bullshit” Jonas spits out “I saw you two on the fucking couch. What was he buying? How much does- “_

_“Woah, whoa, whoa,” Even cuts him off fiercely, shaking his head, sweat falling from his face – the air in the room too stuffy and way too hot._

_This conversation was taking a turn Even definitely didn’t expect. He didn’t know what he expected exactly but it most certainly wasn’t this. He thought maybe Jonas figured out that Even was just using the boys for intel on Isak. He thought maybe Jonas was just being protective and, in turn, overreacting a little._

_“What the fuck are you talking about?” Even asks completely honestly._

_Jonas’ eyes move slowly over the other boy’s face, taking in the confused and anxious features before he pauses and moves his head back just slightly. Some of the heat behind his eyes begins to dim._

_“What?”_

_“Jesus, dude” Even laughs out forcefully – his body still burning hot with adrenaline and nerve, “I don’t know what you think you saw but you’re wrong. I’m not a fucking drug dealer, alright?”_

_Jonas doesn’t speak, his lips pulling down into a small frown. He doesn’t give Even any room as he stares still. His thick dark brows pull into a confused scowl._

_He blinks slowly, “What?” He asks again stupidly._

_Even chuckles and lets out a soft sigh, his eyes finding the ceiling above him, no idea how this night turned out so fucking shitty. He honestly just wanted to come talk to the cute boy who’s been on his mind nonstop for the past few weeks._

_He can still smell the light scent of weed and sweat and something uniquely Isak that lingered around him._

_“I don’t sell drugs,” Even tells him – punctuating each word strongly to make his point, his eyes meeting and remaining on Jonas’ “I was just talking to him. He actually bailed on me.”_

_Jonas still just stands, seemingly frozen, until Even sees the realization click in his head and reach his eyes._

_“Oh…” He says as he backs up – slowly releasing Even from his trap – his eyes flick down, embarrassed._

_Even lets out a sigh of relief as his body leaves the sharp corner behind him._

_“I’m sorry…” Jonas’ eyes find Even’s, his words seeming genuine, he repeats, “I’m sorry. I just- I just thought that- “_

_“That I was selling Isak coke. Got it.”_

_Jonas’ blush deepens._

_“I just don’t understand why you thought that.” Even laughs, trying to ease some of the uncomfortable tension around them now, “Do I just look like the type or?”_

_Jonas pauses, eyes becoming suddenly sad and sullen, his drunkenness letting his words pour more freely and honestly than they ever would on a normal day._

_Even feels his heart pick up a beat or two at Jonas’ next words._

_“It’s not you. It’s Isak.”_

_The brunette’s voice is honest and sincere and Even almost feels bad for taking advantage of his drunken state, but his curiosity gets the best of him as he asks, “What about him?”_

_“He’s fucked up, man.” He rushes out desperately. Even’s eyes widen as Jonas’ hand shoot out and his fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, his voice is frantic and his eyes are wild, “I don’t know how to help him anymore. I need to help him.”_

_“Help him with what?” Even whispers._

_Jonas’ eyes widen slightly._

_Then he promptly doubles over and proceeds to puke on Even’s shoes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Jojo is an actual painting of a cat I handed in for a 7th grade art project. My teacher called him Mr. Cooked Face and said it was his favorite so he hung him in the room for the rest of the year even though I was unsatisfied with the straightness (or lack) of said cat's face in the painting. I still have him hanging on my wall today :)
> 
> Feel free to tell me what you think! Predictions? Feelings? Let me know!


	13. A Mind Like Yours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Hope you guys are still out there!
> 
> Just a few things. I won't bore you with too much rambling but as most of you know I was 10 chapters ahead on this story and then due to my computer crashing I lost all of my work :( And it's just been taking a little longer than I planned to re-write everything in a way I'm happy with. It's been discouraging and definitely an uphill battle to get these chapters back to where I want them. However, I'm not giving up! & as long as you guys stick around to read I'm going to stick around and update :)
> 
> I'm not going to make any promises as to when I'll have the chapters out but I'm aiming for less time between updates now! I know how frustrating it can be to read a slow updating story.
> 
> Also, just know that I am ALWAYS trying my hardest to get updates out as fast as possible.
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who has been sending me such lovely feedback and support and encouragement<3\. Your patience and understanding means the world and this story wouldn't be possible without it.
> 
> As always...ignore my shitty editing skills.
> 
> Enjoy!  
> .  
> .  
> OH! & QUICK RANDOM WARNING: It's a pretty old movie that I'm sure most of you have seen but there are spoilers in this chapter if you've never seen the movie The Sixth Sense! Hahhahaha.

_._

_._

 

_._

 

_“Let me occupy your mind, as you do mine.”_

 

_......_

 

_“Sana still thinks it’s a bad idea.”_

_“And you? What do you think?” Dr. Wilson asks, her eyes remaining open and nonjudgmental – ready to accept any answer Even has to give._

_Even pauses._

_He doesn’t really_ know _what he thinks about it._

_He knows, objectively, that he should be running. Heading for the hills by now. After his encounter with Jonas at the party, after finding out from him that Isak’s problems are a little bigger than just being sad, or lonely – he should want nothing to do with any of it._

_He’s finally okay. He’s finally taking care of himself – he’s settled and medicated and even. His mind has never been this steady in his entire life._

_But Even never has been one to settle for comfortable and mundane._

_Even didn’t really do slow and calm and patient. It isn’t really his thing. He didn’t like waiting around for interesting things to find him when he could go and find the interesting things himself. He likes when things move fast. When things are spontaneous and exciting._

_He was usually the one running ahead of the crowd – leaving the other’s trailing behind him, chasing._

_When Even was just a small boy, adventure stories were always his favorite, so, as he grew older he figured – why not make his life one?_

_An adventure._

_This though –_ Isak _– he didn’t know what to think about it._

_He didn’t mind being patient for Isak, going slow._

_He doesn’t know Isak well enough yet to get mixed up in his whole life. His very complex and complicated life._

_But Even doesn’t know what to think because –_

_He doesn’t_ want _to run. Even if everything in his rational mind is telling him he should. He doesn’t want to run or hide from Isak. He doesn’t want to forget about the boy with cherry-red lips and gloomy green eyes. He didn’t want to ignore the way Isak made his heart speed and his lips smile on their own. He didn’t want to push away his curiosity or ignore the powerful urge he had to get to know the younger boy with bouncing blonde curls and a world full of secrets even Jonas didn’t know about._

_Maybe that made him stupid and reckless. Maybe that meant he was mindless and irresponsible, but he didn’t really care._

_He doesn’t know what he thinks, but he knows how he_ feels _._

_His feelings are irrational and nonsensical – sure. But they’re his and they’re real._

_For once in his life – he wanted to follow his heart instead of his head while he was stable._

_When he was manic he didn’t follow either. It was almost like his body was on autopilot. A very, very hyperactive version of autopilot. He didn’t think or feel anything, yet, he managed to feel everything and anything at the same time. He was blinded by the movement of his thoughts. The constant mantra in his head of go, go, go. Sure, the thoughts he was thinking were his and the things he was feeling were real while he was manic. But he wasn’t making the decisions for himself. He wasn’t actively and consciously choosing to follow one over the other in his right state of mind._

_When he was depressed he didn’t feel anything at all but the numbing effect that his sadness provides as he shut out the world._

_Now, he was medicated. He was stable. He wasn’t second guessing or over-thinking or asking anyone else what he should do. He was asking_ himself _what he wanted to do._

_And for once he knew._

_Even wanted Isak._

_He wanted to get to know him._

_He wanted him to open up to him._

_He wanted to help him in any way he could._

_He wanted to be his friend._

_He wanted to be more._

_He wanted to find out if Isak liked boys._

_Boys like him._

_So, Even smiles at Dr. Wilson and breaths in deeply and confidently - knowing that no one is making this decision but himself. For himself. This is purely him and his thoughts and his feelings. No outside influence needed._

_“I think she’s wrong.” Even tells her honestly “I think I want to go for it.”_

_Even was choosing to take a chance on Isak._

_Dr. Wilson’s red stained lips smile back at him and she nods, clicking her pen happily, “I’m proud of you, Even.”_

_“I’m proud of me too.”_

.

.

.

Even is in the kitchen gathering up some snacks for the movie marathon he had planned for him and Isak.  He leans his weight heavily on the counter, elbows burning from the uncomfortable pressure on them.

He looks down and focuses on the crumbs spread across the surface, his hair hanging messily down his forehead, as he listens to each pop of the corn in the microwave – his apartment filling with the scent of salty butter.

Isak had made himself at home as soon as they walked through the door in silence. He was getting better at being comfortable in Even’s small, quiet corner of the world. He didn’t ask Even if he could use the bathroom anymore or if it was okay to get a glass of water for himself.

Isak sat on the couch lazily with his legs thrown up onto the coffee table and his head leaning against the cushions behind him. He seemed completely comfortable, completely at ease.

As if nothing had happened at all. As if Even’s world wasn’t just flipped on its axis.

And while Isak could act like everything was normal – Even, however, was having much more difficulty doing so. His insides were still trembling in aftershocks. His mind running a mile a minute trying to catch up to what had happened in the car.

In the weeks that he’d been friends with Isak they hadn’t talked much about dating or sexuality, in fact, they hadn’t talked about it at all.

Even was still in the first stages of finding out if Isak even likes boys or girls. Or both. Or neither.

The only hints he got were jokes around the lunch table between the boys where they would talk about hooking up with chicks and laugh about Magnus’ failed attempts to lose his virginity, which Even would remind him daily was nothing to be ashamed of while the other boys rolled their eyes. But Isak was always quiet during these conversations – scarcely did he speak. And when he did it was quick and nothing more than a wise crack.

Even had never heard him speak the way he did in the car.

_“I’m not a fag if that’s what you’re asking.”_

The words continued to repeat over and over in Even’s mind. Ringing loudly and making his head do somersaults. They were so cruel, so harsh, so filled with hatred. Nothing like he’s learned Isak to be generally.

They were spoken strongly – Isak making sure Even _knew_.

Almost as if Isak _had_ to make sure Even knew.

Knew he wasn’t… _that_.

Even could grimace just thinking about it.

_Fag._

_Fag._

_Fag._

Even had heard the word plenty of times. Hell, he’d even been called the word once or twice before but never had it sounded so wrong, so misplaced, so _dirty_ coming from Isak’s soft red lips.

Even may have not known Isak for long, may have not been his friend for long, but he knew enough to see that he wasn’t a cruel person. Not in that way.

But Even saw it there in the car. The way his lip curled up as he spat the word in Even’s direction, the way his nose scrunched up in disgust and his voice lost all of its sweetness. Even couldn’t even understand how such a word had room to fit in a mind like Isak’s.

The rest of the car ride continued in silence as both Isak and Even fidgeted and shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Even snuck glances at the boy beside him from time to time. He watched the way Isak’s frown stayed in place – deep and angry. He saw how his eyes remained blank and unemotional, his cheeks flushed red, his fingers twisting nervously in his lap – like he knew he has done something wrong but he wasn’t going to do anything to fix it. Like he wanted to run away now – as fast and far away as he could.

Then, when they reached Even’s apartment and exited the car – Isak’s frown was gone. Just like that. He made a comment about the unseasonable nice weather and started to walk towards Even’s building.

So, here he stood. Completely confused by everything that was Isak Valtersen.

But, to Even, it wasn’t just what Isak said – it was _how_ he said it.

Even wasn’t hurt or offended by the words. Maybe a year ago, maybe even a few months. But he had made his peace with who and what he was.

No, he wasn’t angry.

He was _afraid_.

He was afraid of the look in Isak’s eyes.

The green colors there dancing as the fire of his emotions danced behind them.

Even was scared because when Isak spoke that word, that world he obviously placed a tremendous amount of weight on, under the blonde’s wall of hate and bigotry – building itself up brick by brick right in front of Even’s eyes – there was something else too.

There was a mirroring look of fear.

Pure, simple, undeniable fear was staring right back at Even through Isak’s captivating green eyes.

Isak was terrified of _Even’s_ words first. His casual confession of his sexuality. His easy acceptance of his sexual orientation.

Even wasn’t completely sure Isak even knew what pansexual meant. But he knew it scared Isak.

He knew something was wrong by the shake in Isak’s voice and the quiver of his lips when he practically whispered his question – asking Even if he was gay. Like he feared the answer, terrified of the outcome, of the word itself.

Even watched, right there in his car, how quickly Isak shifted.

His eyes became distant and glazed. They weren’t _his_ eyes anymore – they were blinded – blinded by whatever Isak saw inside of his mind. Whatever thoughts or memories were flashing back to him.

Even’s seen that look before. He spent a lot of time in the hospital, a lot of time with people with different illnesses.

The look – far off and lost – somewhere so far that Even couldn’t find Isak even if he tried.

Even bit his tongue the whole way home – not opening his mouth once in fear that all the questions rushing forward would spill out. But he wanted to know so badly. He wanted to reach inside Isak’s mind and pull all those bad thoughts out. Even if that meant taking them on himself. Anything to stop that pained, blurred look from clouding the purest color green he had ever seen.

It made Even’s heart ache. The way Isak buried his pain so forcefully. How he buried the feelings so deep he might not remember how to feel them in the first place. How no one knew just how misplaced he was in there, inside the deepest parts of his mind, how far gone.

Not even Even.

How the most beautiful boy that Even had ever known, couldn’t see just how beautiful he was.

Whether he knew Isak well enough or not – he didn’t care. He knew he had a lot more to learn.

But, while Isak may be grumpy and fussy and pretends not to care – he was kind. Even knew he was kind. He saw it in the little things. The care in his eyes when he smiled at his friends genuinely, when Jonas did something he clearly appreciated. When someone tripped in the hall at school and he had stopped to help the first year pick up her books while the other students rushed carelessly by. The way he looked up at Even sometimes, when he forgot to put his guard up, and his eyes were so open and gentle and marvelous.

He was beautiful and _good_. He had potential. Even saw that potential in him. He knew that’s why he was so unexplainably drawn to him. Even if other people didn’t see it, even if Sana didn’t see it – Isak was good. Even if Isak didn’t know it yet, Even did.

He didn’t just see a broken, damaged, lost little boy when he looked at Isak. No. Despite Sana’s thoughts on him just wanting to mend Isak, seeing himself in the other boy, he knew she was wrong. He saw something else.

He saw a light.

He saw a boy crying out for help behind a tough exterior and mean words. He saw a boy who thought about the beauty of parallel universes and the unsureness of infinity. He saw a boy that wanted to be happy and safe and found. He saw a boy with beautiful green eyes and a smile that lit up Even’s heart and made his stomach do flip-flops. He saw a boy with a laugh that made him think of summertime and soft things and hot cocoa on cold days. He saw a boy with the sweetest dimples and the gentlest curls.

Even liked it all.

He liked his grumpiness in the mornings and his dry humor and wise cracks and sassy comebacks that made Even laugh louder than it should have. He liked the way his lips pouted when he was confused and how he asked too many questions during movies, even if it annoyed Even too.

He saw him.

He saw _Isak_.

He was seeing him and learning him.

Even doesn’t deny that he wants to help him. Of course, he does. But that isn’t all its about.

Even wants to know Isak – truly.  That mind that is so beautifully put together, yet coming apart at the seams at the same time.

That mind that is clouded with hate and cluttered with confusion.

The loud beep of the microwave causes Even to jump slightly, shaking him from his thoughts and pulling him back to reality.

He grabs the popcorn before quickly making his way to the boy in mind.

Determined to get some of his own answers. No questions necessary.

.

.

.

“Well, I saw that coming.”

Even rolls his eyes as the credits of the movie begin to roll.

Isak, who was quiet through most of the film, surprisingly only asking a question or two, now speaks confidently.

He tosses the last of the popcorn into his mouth and smiles lazily at the boy beside him, his legs still stretched out comfortably on the table before them, using his big toe to pause the movie whenever he had to speak. His hair is tucked beneath his signature snapback, facing forward today.

“You did not see that coming, Isak.” Even sighs, shaking his head and closing the lid to his laptop.

“Uhm, yes I did!” Isak tells him, sitting straighter on the couch – his expression hilariously offended.

“You’re telling me you predicted one of the most unpredictable endings of all time?”

“Yeah, I totally knew like halfway through.”

Even laughs, his chest filling with a new but familiar kind of weightlessness that happened when he was around this boy. He watched as Isak pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, and his eyes flick upwards slightly as he lies.

Isak may good at hiding, but he isn’t the best at playing coy it seems. He can bury secret after secret under false words, but cannot for the life of him tell the simplest of lies sometimes. At least not to Even. That could just be because of how closely Even watches though.

Even angles his body towards the younger boy – expression stern and incredulous now.

“So, you’re telling me” He repeats, words drawn out and questioning “That you knew Bruce Willis was a ghost the whole time? I don’t believe you. I had to watch this movie at least three times before I was convinced I even saw it correctly.”

Isak shrugs casually, like it’s the simplest explanation in the world, the only one he needs to give.

Until Even widens his eyes dramatically and Isak is forced to let out an annoyed huff, “Yeah, I mean, the little boy sees ghosts. Why else would Bruce’s character be such a big part of the film? It just makes sense.”

The right side of Isak’s lip pulls up, signaling that the next words that leave his mouth are going to be cleaver and bratty, “Maybe I just have a better eye for films than you. Better at putting it all together. You know you’re going to have to shape up if you’re gonna be this big-time movie director you’re always talking about being.”

Even smiles fondly.

It’s not often that Isak’s grumpy mood is replaced by something a little milder – something sweeter and more playful.

Even cherishes these glimpses of his softer side.

“Well, what do you want to do?” Even asks randomly.

“Hmm?” Isak questions, tilting his head to the side – questioning. Big eyes blinking over at him slowly.

Isak licks some of the left-over butter from his lips, and Even has to force his eyes to remain focused on green.

“Well, I want to be a big shot director as you pointed out,” He smiles “How about you?”

Isak pauses for a moment, his eyes lingering on Even’s face, his lips pulling into a slight frown.

Even immediately regrets his question as he watches Isak’s lips fall and his eyes shift. He didn’t mean to get too personal too fast. He knew Isak scared easily and he knew his best bet was taking this whole this at the younger boy’s pace.

But when Even opens his mouth to apologize, Isak speaks, “Honestly,” He starts “I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it. I’ve never really thought about anything but getting past tomorrow…”

Isak breaths heavily, letting the statement kind of just hang between the two of them, settling uncomfortably in the air.

Even doesn’t know what to say to that – he doesn’t know what that’s like. Even’s known what he’s wanted to do since he was five years old. He couldn’t imagine not knowing, he couldn’t imagine having no direction what’s so ever, it’s his dreams that have gotten him this far in life. Even when he was going mad and stuck inside the chaos of his own mind – he had his hopes and dreams to settle him. Ground him.

He couldn’t even fathom not being able to have anything to hold onto.

He clears his throat and simply just asks –

“You hungry?”

“I could eat.”

.

.

.

“You’re useless in the kitchen.”

“I helped!”

“You peeled one carrot.”

Isak is perched on the counter next to where Even is currently slicing the potatoes to add to the chicken soup. Isak has peeled exactly one carrot – choosing to spend the rest of his time leaning languidly against the cabinets, swinging his legs from side to side, and smiling teasingly as he watches Even prepare the meal.

“I’m not a very good cook.” Isak tells him with wide, innocent seeming eyes, lashes fluttering against his cheekbones.

Even smirks, “I feel like your bitch.”

Isak chuckles and Even still isn’t sick of the fact that he’s the one pulling that sound from his lips. Isak’s laugh leaves Even silently breathless every single time.

Even still has a hard time grasping the fact that he and Isak are friends. He’s both amazed and terrified that he’s no longer gazing longingly at the blonde from across the school yard, but not standing there next to him, educating him about film history and the importance of a decent night’s sleep.

When Isak walks over to him each morning, sleepy sunlit gaze, messy hair tucked away under a worn-washed snapback, and a small closed lipped smile – he still can’t believe that he’s walking towards him.

And he’s always just as beautiful as every other time Even has laid eyes on him. 

Sometimes when he pictures Isak in his mind he convinces himself that he’s exaggerating. No one can be that beautiful, that stunning, that fucking perfect feature for feature. All sharp angles and delicate curves.

But then he sees him in person again and he realizes not only was his mind right, he wasn’t giving Isak enough credit.

He was breathtaking in his movements and captivating with his stare.  

“Not a completely inaccurate statement.”

Even’s smile doesn’t fall.

The quiet calmness that follows is easy and comfortable and makes Even’s smile hitch higher.

He likes that Isak is comfortable enough here in his home. Isak isn’t comfortable many places. He can joke and laugh and be Even’s friend.

He lets the motion of his chopping to let him relax and be soothed.

He’s getting better at letting himself enjoy routine. It feels good to not have to find the adventure and chaos in every little thing he does.

“Hmm, these are good.”

Even looks up to find Isak looking back at him – eyes wide and sincere – a smudge of chocolate on his pale cheek, a cookie resting between his teeth, one he snagged from the cookie jar behind him on Even’s counter.

Even smiles, “Thanks.”

“Did you make them?”

“Store bought.”

“Still good.” He takes another bite.

And Even doesn’t even realize why Isak’s eyes are widening, until he does –

Even doesn’t think about his next action, it kind of just happens on instinct, his body automatically gravitating towards Isak’s, before he has time to question how over the line it is. He always seems to forget that part of human interaction when he’s around Isak.

He places the knife in his hand down and reaches over.

Isak doesn’t flinch or pull away as Even places his fingers softly against Isak’s warm blushing cheek, his thumb brushing away the left-over chocolate there, skimming the skin until he reaches the edge of Isak’s lip, lingering there for a moment. The skin is smooth and soft beneath his own and he feels Isak’s breath hitch higher as he pulls his hand away, bringing his finger between his own lips, licking away the sweetness left there.

Isak doesn’t do anything but blink back slowly at the older boy.

His eyes dart back and forth between Even’s before moving down and locking on his mouth. Isak’s eyes linger there for a moment or two, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly, his cheeks continuing to color with the most beautiful pink.

It may be in the running for Even’s new favorite color – including all the exceptional shades of green in Isak’s eyes.

Even’s stomach grows hot when the blonde’s stare doesn’t move.

He just blinks, swallows audible once again, and stares some more.

“Hmm, you’re right.” Even tells him.

He wants to reach out and touch the boy’s skin again. To feel the heat of his flesh on his fingertips. He wants to trace patterns on the empty spaces on his body and feels Isak’s warmth become his own.

He wants to pull him closer and feel his breath stutter against his lips, feel his pulse quicken at the base of his throat and at his temples, feel his hands shake the same as Even’s.

He wants to kiss his perfectly curved lips.

He wants him close enough so he can count the shades of green in his eyes.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he picks up the knife and continues to cut, trying to ignore the fire under his skin “dinner should be done in twenty-minutes.”

.

.

.

Even learns that Isak is a very messy eater. He slurps his soup and takes too big gulps and grabs too big spoonful’s.

It shouldn’t be cute. But somehow – it is. 

“What?’ Isak asks around a mouthful of potato.

Even smiles, shaking his head in amusement.

“Nothing, nothing,” He points to his own chin and nods towards the roll of paper towels in the center of the table. “You just have a little something right there.”

Isak rolls his eyes at his friend’s clear amusement and reaches for the napkins.

“Why do you have a vase of flowers in the middle of your fucking table?”

To someone who didn’t know Isak his words might have sounded harsh, mean, judgmental even. But Even knew better by now. Isak didn’t ask questions unless he was genuinely curious. He didn’t talk just for the hell of it. He was quiet until he had something to say, something he wanted to be heard.

That’s why, whenever Isak reached out and asked Even a question about his life, no matter how big or small, his heart swelled. Because Isak truly wanted to know.

“My mom picked them for me,” Even tells him honestly. His mom came over a few days ago, and they took a walk in the park and he told her all about this boy with the cutest dimples in the world. His mom laughed as she teased him and he blushed.

He eats a spoonful of his soup, which is pretty damn good, if he does say so himself.

“Your mom?”

Even nods – readying himself for the wise crack that is bound to follow. The Bakka boys always teased Even for being a bit of a mamma’s boy.

But it doesn’t come.

Isak blinks across at him, eyes wide and curious, but he doesn’t ask any questions – instead he just nods and turns back to his soup, “Okay.” He accepts.

“Here,” Even speaks around the carrot in his mouth, reaching for one of the small dandelions in the vase – plucking one away easily, reaching across the table, and tucking it behind Isak’s ear.

It matches perfectly with the blonde loops of his hair.

Isak lets out an amused snort, rolling his eyes, like he expected just this kind of thing from Even as the older boy smiles proudly at his idea, at Isak.

And Isak smiles back. Soft and small – nothing overly joyous. A ghost of a smile, really. But it still makes Even’s chest fill with the best kind of feeling. He doesn’t know exactly what to call it. It’s warm and light and leaves him always wanting more. It makes him happy and nervous and so fucking excited. This feeling that leaves him the most winded he has ever felt. It made him feel so lost and full of wonder that it was almost crippling.

Isak’s smile could light up even the darkest and most cynical parts of Even’s mind – the parts made up of doubt and fear and everything that makes him second-guess his actions.

He forgets it all when Isak smiles at him like that.

“Thanks.” Isak adds, voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

“You’re welcome.”

.

.

.

Even used to be afraid to be alone with his own thoughts.

Terrified of what his mind would come up with next. Thoughts so twisted and distorted that he couldn’t help but run away, try to escape. Thoughts so blended together, intertwined and rushing in every direction that he couldn’t decipher one from the other. Thoughts that made him hate his own mind and how badly it treated him.

It was like watching a horror movie on repeat, unable to stop it, unable to control it.

No say. No choice.

Even’s mind was a very dark place to be for a very long time.

Although, it’s not as if Even has any control over his thoughts now either. But this time – they’re welcome.

Now, as he lays on his bed, hours after Isak has left, all Even’s mind can focus on is Isak.

He finds himself telling stories about the boy inside his mind. Filling the blank spaces there about the adventures he may have had as a child. He wants to know what games Isak liked to play as a kid – if he was just as shy and grumpy or if he grew into that as he got older. He wanted to see pictures from the awkward stages of puberty and know who his first kiss was and if it was as bad as Even’s own.

He wants to know everything.

Even is pulled from his thoughts when his phone pings loudly from beside him.

 **Jonas:** _Isak said he was at yours after school today. That true? Everything ok?_

Even sighs.

Then there’s this.

Jonas.

Jonas and his brand new rocky alliance with the second year.

Even likes Jonas well enough. Even likes how much Jonas cares about his best friend. He can see it in his eyes when he talks about him, looks at him, the worry and pain and love settled there. Jonas makes him laugh when he’s hanging out with the boys. He’s laid-back and pretty cool.

But he’s also pressuring and dominating and asking too much of Even.

The night of the party, after Jonas had vomited on Even’s shoes, Even got him to stumble his way to the bathroom before the tears started – he cleaned him up and helped him drink a glass of water. Even tried not to listen but he couldn’t help it as Jonas rambled drunkenly about Isak’s drug problems and Chris and all the promises Isak had broken before and the one he had made now.

And that was that.

Even went home with his head spinning and his heart pounding and an itch then more than ever to get to know Isak and just ask… _why_. To understand him.

And Jonas didn’t try to talk to Even again – until he ran into Isak on the tram one early morning and Isak made a promise all his own to Even too. One to be friends.

Even was perfectly happy pretending that nothing happened at the party, and for a while it seemed like Jonas felt the same, until he approached Even one day after school – expression casual and attitude aloof.

_“He seems comfortable with you,” He shrugged simply, “I’ve never seen him like this with anyone. I’m not asking much. I just need you to help me watch over him. You’ll be hanging out with him anyway…. please.”_

There was something about the way Jonas uttered the last word – so desperate and misplaced. As if this was his only hope, as if _Even_ was his only hope. He tried to cover it up but Even saw it. The fear in his eyes, the desperate nature of his actions. He wouldn’t be asking Even unless he felt like he absolutely needed to.

Even caved.

But he knew better.

No, it wasn’t like much had changed. He didn’t report back to Jonas on Isak’s each and every move, he didn’t even talk to him every day, or every other day. Jonas either texted him first or asked Even to message him if he saw anything ‘off’. Even didn’t know exactly what he was supposed to be looking out for and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

What Even did know, however, was what it was liked to be watched. He knew what it was like for people’s eyes to follow your every move, just waiting for you to fuck up, monitoring your actions, emotions, your every decision. He knew what it was like to not be trusted.

He can’t help but feel like he’s betraying Isak, tainting the relationship in some kind of way. Whether he’s helping him for the better or not, helping Jonas ‘keep him safe’ or not.

That’s not really his decision to make, is it?

That’s why, now, his fingers hover above the keyboard of his phone – being pulled in two directions, debating whether or not to tell Jonas about the schoolyard just the other day, the look Chris gave Isak – ugly and domineering, and the look that Isak gave back. Nervous. Jittery. Jumpy.

In the end, he sighs, texting back quickly and not letting himself overthink –

 **Even:** _Yep. Just watched some movies. All good._

 **Jonas** _: Good. Thanks! See you tomorrow._

 **Even** _: See ya._

He replies hastily before sending another text even quicker.

 **Even** : _hey you busy?_

 **Sana** _: Nope. What’s up?_

 **Even** : _I need to talk…can you call me?_

 

.

.

.

“So, you’re spying on him?”

“ _No_ , Sana.”

“That’s what it sounds like to me.”

“Well, you’re hearing it wrong.”

“Maybe you’re telling it wrong then. Because it sounds a lot like spying to me.”

Even lets out a frustrated sigh, scrubbing his face roughly with the palm of the hand that isn’t hold the phone, “Okay, maybe calling you was a mistake.”

“Why?” Sana scoffs “Because I’m telling the truth?”

“I’m not spying on him!” Even snaps, sitting up properly in his bed, glaring at nothing in particular. “I’m…it’s not like I’m ‘reporting back’ to Jonas, okay? I’m not…I’m just being his friend. Jonas just asks me questions about if Isak if telling the truth about certain things or if Isak is where he says he is so I- “

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why is Jonas asking? Why doesn’t he trust him?”

“He…” Even pauses, not waiting to betray Isak any further by spreading his secrets, his business “He just…he does,” He clears his throat, stalling, “He does, he’s just checking.”

“You’re lying. What aren’t you telling me?”

“I can’t exactly air Isak’s dirty laundry everywhere and feel okay about it, Sana.”

“But you can go behind his back to his best friend and spy on him?”

“I’m not spying!” But even as he says them now – the words are sounding weaker and weaker.

But he wasn’t fucking spying damn it…

Was he?

“Look, Even,” Sana sighs, ruffling some papers in the background – obviously trying to multitask, probably busy with studying before she had to stop and be a good friend to Even – just another thing to add to the growing list of Why Even Feels Guilty Today, “If you don’t feel right about it and this is something that’s really bothering you…then you need to stop. Just talk to Jonas. Tell him how you feel. He’s a cool dude, right? Just…talk to him.”

Even is silent for a moment, mulling it over, weighing his options.

Most of the time, honestly, Sana gives Even advice that he already knows to be right. Stuff he knew all along. He doesn’t know why but sometimes it just sounds better coming from her mouth. It makes him feel reassured that he’s doing the right thing, or knows the right thing to do. Dr. Wilson would frown upon this but right now he pushes that thought away.

He lets out a small breath, falling back against his pillows, “Yeah,” He agrees “yeah okay. You’re right.”

“Of course I am.”

.

.

.

The next day, before first bell, Even makes his way to the brunette’s locker – fully intent on explaining his feelings – the weight and guilt and pressure he feels from Jonas’ simple request.

He takes steady, deep breaths on the way there, trying to calm his nerves – deciding the best option is quick and painless – like a band aid.

But as he rounds the corner – he stops short, sneakers squeaking against the tiles loudly.

His heart hits his throat. His stomach drops.

Isak stands a few feet away from him – a white t-shirt covered by his signature Adidas jacket, curls covered up by a light grey snapback, eyes pointed downwards, looking small and hidden – as he kicks the tiled floor beneath him with the toe of his shoe.

And in front of him stands Chris – his stance looming over the second year, commanding – he’s talking way too loudly, demanding that Isak listen, even as the smaller boy does everything in his power to shrink away and ignore Chris’ presence.

The words that leave Chris’ mouth makes Even skin crawl, “Why the fuck haven’t you been answering me? You know…never mind. Are you going to do it or not? He said he’ll give me a really fucking good deal if you blew him. You know Nico has had a hard-on for you since he met you,” Chris chuckles – just like he’s talking about nothing more than the weather. “It’s not that big of a deal, really. You like sucking cock don’t you?”

Even’s clenches his fists tightly at his side, reminding himself that he’s not supposed to be hearing this, before he does something stupid – something he regrets. Even’s never been one for violence – he’s more of a kill them with kindness kind of person. Passive. But never in his life has he felt such a strong urge to harm someone.

A white hot flash of rage runs through his body, muscles tightening.

He watches as Isak’s cheek burn bright pink, he mumbles something quietly, too quietly for Even to hear. He shuffles from foot to foot and readjusts his backpack straps.

Even wants to go to him – take him protectively in his arms and let him know everything is going to be okay.

But he’s frozen.

Chris does hear Isak’s words, and he sighs, “Come on, Party Boy.”

Even’s stomach rolls at the obviously familiar pet name Chris has given the younger boy.

“Look, just think about it, okay?” He urges – his voice much softer now, light and coaxing. “Here’s something to help.”

Isak looks up then – eyes wide and scared and beginning to fill with tears. He’s never looked more lost to Even.

Even’s heart clenches, his throat thick with emotions – wanting nothing more than to call out to the other boy.

He watches as it happens – Chris takes Isak’s hand in his own, uncurling his fist so his palm is facing up, and there he places a little sky blue pill.

Isak’s tears do fall now, sliding silently down his cheeks, Even aching to kiss them away.

“Just think about it.”

Then he’s gone.

And by the look on Isak’s face – so is he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Predictions? Thoughts? Questions? I'm always willing to chat!


	14. Color Me Blue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank everyone for being so wonderful and supportive and precious to me as I struggled to find inspiration to continue writing<3\. Thank you for sticking with me and this story and continuing to have faith and continuing to leave me amazingly wonderful feedback :) *hugs*
> 
> It means the world. 
> 
> You guys are my color blue<3.
> 
> .
> 
> .
> 
> As always please ignore grammar/spelling mistakes because...dumb.
> 
> Enjoy!

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_"Take my hand and we'll make it. I swear."_

 

_......_

 

Isak’s screams are loud but muffled. His teeth pressing forcefully into the soft skin of his fist, his forehead digging into the roughly textured wall of the bathroom, eyes clenched painfully shut.

He screams there alone in the boy’s bathroom at Nissen, huddled pathetically in the corner, squatting down low, there for anyone to walk in on. But Isak can’t bring himself to care.

The noises rip from his chest and make his body begin quake with every new burst of feeling. He feels the veins and muscles in his neck bulge and throb as his body begins to grow hot.

Over and over again he lets himself scream roughly into his fist - trying to expel the built up hatred, the built up hurt, the build up frustration that is coursing through his body.

He can feel the streaks of dried tears on his cheeks now as he pushes the urge to continue to let the water flow deep down inside of him.

He tries to make his breathing slow, make the heaving of his chest stop, but it’s hard when his mind is so clouded - yelling ridiculously loudly at him. Telling him how pitiful he is. How stupid. The blood rushes through his veins too quickly. He feels his face burn red-hot, pressure building behind his eyes.

Even once told Isak that this feeling is called a panic attack. He gave him tips on how to handle it - count your breaths, focus on slowing them down, think of something that makes you happy. But Isak can’t. All he can see is darkness.

All he can see is himself - wide eyed and desperate. All he can see is Chris looking down at him with a sickly sinister smirk and a look in his eyes that made Isak want to run and hide. All he can see is a small blue pill, all he can imagine is how sweet it would taste on his tongue, how beautiful it would feel flowing through his veins. All he can see is darkness and sickness and fear.

When Chris placed it in his palm, eyes dark and knowing - the first thing Isak felt was... _happiness_. It felt familiar and safe in his hold. It felt both heavy and light. It felt _right_ , there in his hand. He was ready to escape. He wanted nothing more in that moment than to give himself over to the pull inside his mind and the craving buried within his chest. The same pulls and cravings that he’s been distracting himself from with movie nights and late night text messages. He wanted to give in. He wanted nothing more than to place the small escape on his tongue and let it melt and feed him and take away all of his worry.

And he was going to. As soon as Chris left him, there alone in the empty hallway, he was going to cave. He brought the pill up and held it in front of his eyes - it was small and blue and had a small indent of an airplane on it. Isak could imagine how delicious it would taste melting behind his teeth.

His lips tingled at the thought.

But then...he noticed that the pill was the same color blue as Even’s eyes. The same kind of blue that made him feel safe and focused and able to face another day. It was a blue so pure and light that it made Isak’s stomach drop. It was beautiful. And he couldn’t swallow it.

He saw Even’s blue staring at him. He heard his lighthearted laugh and felt his careful touch. He tasted his chicken soup and remembered the dandelion still placed on the end table in his room. He remembered the warm feeling that bloomed inside him when Even placed it behind his ear and smiled at him - wide and dorky - like Isak was the best thing in the world.

He ran to the bathroom and flushed it.

Hating himself the entire time. Hating himself so much that his chest ached - threatening to give out on him, teetering on the edge, seconds away from collapsing in on him.

Because, the thing was, that Isak didn’t want to flush it. He had managed to, yes, but right now in this moment, all he wanted was that pill back.

He was fighting his basic instincts. He had to use every single ounce of power and strength he had to make his muscles work with his mind, he had to scream at every nerve in his body to let him do this, he had to push passed the burning inside his stomach, the itch of his throat, and the tingling of his tongue. He had to keep Even at the front of his thoughts.

He had to fight through the sickness. And he hates that that is who he really is. He just wants it to stop. He just wants everything to stop.

He doesn’t want to be this way, but he is.

He pants heavily against the wall now, his fist falling to his side, his screams dying down. His body feels hot and spent and weak, just like his mind.

“So, is this our thing then?”

Isak jumps, startled by the sudden noise - a deep voice filled with spirit and kindness and familiarity right behind him.

He stands straight too quickly, blood rushing to his head, he smooths the wrinkles of his jacket and shirt, wiping his cheeks roughly and hoping Even can’t tell he’s been crying - before he turns.

Even stands just a few feet away. His face is neutral, giving nothing away, not letting Isak know if he’s heard his screams or not. He blinks over at Isak - eyes as wide and blue and alluring as ever. Isak feels a ghost touch of warmth float over his cheek, remembering the feel of Even’s skin, his thumb pushing into his flesh - light and fleeting but _everything_ that made Isak’s heart jump.

Isak swallows thickly as he watches Even grip the straps of his backpack and lick his plush lips. His jean jacket is very much present and it makes Isak feel oddly comforted. His hair is messy today - looking unbrushed, but Isak decides that he kind of likes it this way better.

“What are you doing in here?” Isak asks, cringing at how rough and scratchy his voice sounds.

Hesitation passes over Even’s expression, but only for a moment, “I have to pee.” He tells Isak.

Isak nods, his mind just catching up to Even’s initial statement, “Wait. Is what our thing?”

“This” Even says casually, waving a hand to the space that separates the boys, his lips playing up into a small smile “Running into each other in bathrooms? Seems to happen a lot. This universe sure likes us in this situation.”

Isak can’t help it, he lets out a small chuckle, his muscles beginning to loosen just slightly, his eyes rolling towards the ceiling. He lets his body act naturally to Even’s words, his presence.

“We don’t have a thing, Even.”

“Oh,” Even doesn’t bat an eye - his smile turning into a smirk, his eyebrows raising, “I think we definitely have a thing.”

The hair on Isak’s arm stands.

His stomach burns. His heart twitches.

He ignores it all.

He ignores the meaning.

“Are you okay? You look...tired.” Even asks.

Isak nods absently.

He looks at Even. Looks at his soft features and gentle expression and kind face. His messy hair and annoying jean jacket. He looks at him and can’t believe someone like him can exist.

And he wonders what Even sees right now. What he thinks when he looks back at Isak - eyes roaming his face the way they do, searchingly, like he’s looking for something, looking for answers that Isak will never be able to give him.

Isak hates what he sees in the mirror every morning. He can’t imagine how anyone, especially someone as smart as Even, could see anything different.

He should be running in the exact opposite direction by now.

“You called me beautiful once,” Isak says, having no control over the words that pour from his lips now, his mind moving too quickly and too slowly at the same time. “Why?”

He watches Even’s eyes widen, obviously and understandably not expecting the question. Between the two boys - Even was usually the talker, the one who asked questions that Isak rarely answered.

His lips open and close a few times as he searches for the right words. Isak’s eyes don’t move from his.

The dark blue shades of his eyes make Isak’s skin itch.

Even doesn’t speak for a few moments, running the question over in his mind again and again.

Isak almost takes it back, laughs it off and tells his friend to forget it, but he doesn’t. He truly wants to know. He needs to know.

Finally, after a heavy pause buried in the layer of silence, Even answers simply, his words straightforward, “Because it’s true.”

Those words make the knot at the center of Isak’s chest begin to loosen, his thoughts begin to untangle at the honestly he finds in Even’s gaze, he feels the heat begin to rise under his skin.

His body is twitchy and his emotions are too pent up.

Isak wishes he would elaborate. Give him some kind of explanation or reasoning but he doesn’t. And Isak doesn’t ask him to.

He bites his lip, his eyes still not leaving Even’s, “Well, thank you.” He says, voice shy and wavering “I never said thank you.”

Even smiles - wide and bright and blinding.

“You’re welcome.”

Isak finds himself smiling back. He’s automatically affected by Even’s actions, just like he always is.

He likes listening to Even explain the things going on inside his mind, he likes watching Even experience the world, he likes seeing things from the other boy’s point of view. Or at least trying to.

Isak loves to escape reality. In fact, it’s one of his very favorite things to do. But when he is here in the real world, standing face to face with real problems and real people, he likes to see things in facts. Proven and clear and certain. He likes to know what he’s getting himself into - even the stupid and reckless things.

He’s learning, slowing but surely, that Even isn’t like that. His way of escaping is much different than Isak’s. It doesn’t involve little blue pills or bitter white powder.

Even’s reality _is_ an escape.

Even likes to paint his world in dreams and stories - unique and unexpected - making Isak’s reality dull in comparison.

Isak was starting to feel okay with Even beginning to paint his world too. It's what made Isak want to be around him, it’s what made Isak reach out instead of reach for a baggie, it was new and terrifying and beautiful.

He wanted to hug Even right now. Hold him in his arms and let his body say everything his voice couldn’t. He wanted to feel Even’s warmth against his own and let himself feel safe and taken care of.

He wanted Even.

Instead of saying any of that though, Isak clears his throat loudly, finally breaking eye contact, “I’ll save your seat at lunch?” Isak asks, already knowing the answer.

“Absolutely.”

.

.

.

 **Isak** : you in school today?

 **Eva** : Oh! Look who's alive. Yeah I’m here.

 **Isak** : Meet me by the second floor window in 10 minutes.

 **Eva** : Is that an order?

 **Isak** : It’s important.

 **Eva** : Ok. I’ll be there.

.

.

.

“You look tired.” Isak tells her as she approaches.

He leans back against the windowsill at the top of the steps.

Isak is being generous with his words. Eva looks absolutely horrible. Her clothes, which consist of a wool moss green sweater and a short jean skirt, hang too loosely and messily from her body, swallowing her frame, as she walks up the stairs on shaky legs. There are dark purple bags beneath her usually bright eyes. Her makeup is last-night smudged and her lips are chapped and peeling and coated with too much lipstick. Her hair is thrown up lazily, hanging in knots and tangles.

She looks run down and worn, too much so in just the few short weeks Isak hasn’t seen her.

“Good to see you too, old friend,” Eva half-smiles, her lips coated with a rich purple color “You look great as well.”

She stops in front of him and smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, which look dim and sunken down, in a way that makes Isak’s heart ache for his friend.

He can’t help but wonder how many times he’s had this same vacant stare and sickly state of being - how many times Jonas or Mahdi or Magnus have smiled through it and ignored how bad he looked. He probably doesn’t want to know honestly.

Eva’s normally smooth clear skin looks oily yet dry at the same time. Small bumps litter the highs of her cheekbones and the skin between her unkempt eyebrows.

Her legs are wobbly and scarily thin. Her collarbone is too prominent and her cheeks are too pale.

Isak knows what that’s like too. To be so focused on the escape, too caught up and lost in it, that you forget about everything else. Literally everything. Yourself most of all.

He’s gone days without eating or sleeping or even fucking blinking, until Jonas reached out, brought him back, and forced him to shiver through it and land heavily back on earth, back into reality.

Eva doesn’t have a Jonas.

Suddenly, Isak doesn’t even remember why he asked to meet her. He doesn’t remember that he’s supposed to be asking her about Chris and what his deal with Nico is and that he wants no part of it. He forgets that this is supposed to be quick and painless and efficient.

All he can think about is how horrible Eva looks, how lost and sick, and how it’s all his fault.

His throat squeezes tightly and it’s suddenly too hard to suck in air.

He wants to reach out to her, tuck her hair behind her ear and touch her cheek, he wants to tell he how fucking sorry he is, to let her know that he’s there for her - even if he’s not. Even if he can’t be.

“So, what’s so important that you suddenly remember that I exist?” Eva asks - her smile stays in place as she tries to keep her voice casually light, but Isak can hear the hurt there, the sadness.

A pang of guilt shoots through Isak’s chest. But he’s good at staying straightfaced, covering up, pretending.

“Chris came up to me earlier.” Isak gets straight to the point, getting back on track, trying to get this over with as quickly as possible, wanting to be anywhere but here. “Told me about the shit with Nico. Did you know about that?”

Eva’s face drops - lips pulling down forcefully as the skin between her eyes crinkles.

“Oh, yeah” She nods, “ Chris told me. Apparently Nico is willing to work a deal out with Chris. Get him some really good coke in exchange for...well, you know. I told Chris to stop being an asshole, that you weren’t even gay. I didn’t think he would actually ask you.” Her bigs eyes roll, “He’s a moron.”

Isak's nails begin to press down into his palms, fists staying by his sides, teeth pressed tightly together.

His insides shake.

He thinks of blue.

“Don’t pay him any mind,” Eva shrugs, tightening her hold around the school books in her arms, “You know how he is. But seriously...where have you been? We’ve been missing you. Have I been ditched?” She fake chuckles, “Chris says you have to be getting shit from somewhere...is it that new guy? The tall blonde?”

Isak feels a sour taste fill his mouth at just the thought of Even being involved in this part of his life in any way, seeing this side of him, knowing just how sick he is. He imagines how fast Even would run, and how Isak wouldn’t blame him for a single second.

“I…” He sighs, losing his words, not exactly sure what to say as taps his food restlessly and sinks further into the wall behind him.

Does he tell her that he’s “clean” now? Whatever that means.

That he’s not clean by choice but because he has to be - for Jonas, for Lea, for Even.

How he misses the drugs more than he ever thought possible. How he just wants to be back in the escape.

That he’s fighting against every single urge in his body right now to just say _fuck it_ and go with Eva, find Chris, and lose his mind.

How he hates himself for bringing this into their lives, into her life, how he ruins everything he touches.

How he’s holding onto Even selfishly even though he knows it can’t end any other way but badly. How he’ll take what he can get for as long as he can get it.

In the end, he shoves his hands into his jean pockets and shrugs, playing it off, pretending as always, “No it’s just...it’s a bunch of bullshit with my family honestly. Drama. I’ve been staying home with my sister a lot.”

Eva nods and doesn’t ask questions.

She doesn't know anything about Isak’s family or home life except that he has a younger sister that he’s very protective of and he refers to his father as a “drunk asshole” when he’s really high.

Isak knows Eva isn’t stupid. They’re not as close as she wants them to be or as they pretend to be. Isak hides and lies. She doesn’t know him, not really. They’re bonded by the pain inside them that they try to unsuccessfully fix. Bonded by their love for escape.

And in turn Isak doesn’t know much about Eva either. He didn’t pay much attention when she was dating Jonas, and by the time they broke up Isak was already lost in his escape.

He’s never even asked why she needs the escape. He just kind of knew, and she accepted, because she pretends too.

“Okay.” Eva accepts easily, her eyes downcast, voice low. “Are...are we still friends though?”

Isak’s eyes close, overwhelmed with the emotions beginning to rise to the surface, rush through his body, taking over every part of him.

He tries to focus on -

_Blue._

_Blue._

_Blue._

_The good kind._

_The kind that makes Isak feel safe, the kind that makes him smile, the kind that makes him say no to other kinds of blues._

He wants to push Eva away. Say what he came here to say. That he’s done with it, he’s done with her, don’t mention Chris to him ever again, just lose his number and forget he ever existed.

_We were never friends, Eva. Not real frinds._

No matter how deeply he cares for her.

But he can’t. He bites his tongue as the words get stuck thickly in his throat and his mind goes blank.

Only one thought left there.

That this is his fault. This is all his fucking fault.

And he can’t fix it.

When he opens his eyes he meets Eva’s.

He remembers the day that Jonas introduced her to Isak. Jonas had been talking about her for weeks, rambling on and on about the girl he was determined to make his girlfriend. Isak laughed and played along and only listened half of the time.

Eva was the first girl that Isak saw and ever thought - ‘ _Wow she really is beautiful._ ’

She had a spirit about her, an aura that was both subtle yet commanding.

She was shy but enthusiastic. She told him Jonas talked about him all the time and she’d been really nervous to meet him. She wanted Isak to like her.

Her eyes were bright and happy and he was jealous of the way Jonas stared at her - like she was the center of his universe.

She had rosy pink cheeks and a witty, dry kind of humor that matched Jonas’.

He both loved Eva for making his best friend so happy and hated her for taking him away.

Now, her eyes held emptiness and pain.

That was around the same time Isak met Chris. It was around the same time his Mamma started to get worse, to tell him he was going to hell, calling him different names and mistaking him for different people, different monsters. When she began to lock him in his room by barricading the door. The same time his Pappa told him that it was his fault. It was the same time his body was always bruised and his mind was always crying out for help.

It was the same time Isak met the escape.

He’d been gone for a few weeks by the time Jonas and Eva broke up.

He held his best friend while he cried and then tucked him into bed and went out to find an escape for the night. He felt guilty for leaving him, for lying to him, but it wasn’t enough to stop him.

That’s the night it all became his fault.

“Of course we’re friends, Eva.” Isak whispers so quietly.

Eva’s eyes remain on his. She blinks slowly and smiles and doesn’t believe him. But she moves forward anyway, wrapping her frail arms around his center, she feels cold and breakable against Isak and he just wants to cry. He feels the tears begin to build in the back of his throat.

He wants to run, he’s always ready to run, but --

He wraps his arms hesitantly around her shoulders. She’s barely there, a skeleton against him. Their bodies shake together.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers, resting his chin gently against her grease slicked hair, his voice just a quiver. “I’m so fucking sorry, Eva.”

“I know, Isak. I know.”  
.

.

.

_Isak had already snorted a line of coke -- his tongue numb and his lips tingling and his mind rushing in the most unbelievably wonderful kind of way._

_He was floating. Floating away from everything - from the bruises that littered his body, the pain rushing forward in his chest, the images flashing through his mind - violent and agonizing - the sickness that has stuck inside of him, weighing him down._

_He leans his head back against the tiled bathroom wall as it vibrates with the pulse of the loud music that fills the house. Chris’ house. His new friend. His new friend with secrets, and answers, and everything Isak has been searching for._

_He’s done coke a few times here and there with the boys but he’s never had it like this - so easy, so powerful, so alone._

_He thinks about...nothing but this. Maybe snorting another line in a few minutes._

_He only opens his eyes again when the door opens with a loud groan._

_He sees Eva before she sees him. Her face is wet with tears, black streaks of eyeliner running down her cheeks, her short floral skirt ruffled too high up on her thighs. She slams the door shut forcefully and presses her body back against the surface heavily._

_She shakes her head, chin moving down to touch her chest, a sob escaping her as her body rocks with her cries._

_Her hair falls in loose messy curls and covers her face and her view of the boy across the room._

_Isak blinks slowly over as her and sighs._

_He’s not a good person, he’s not a good friend, he doesn’t want to do this. He wants to lose himself completely tonight -- fall into oblivion._

_“Hey,” he greets her._

_She startles -- quickly looking over to him, trying to straighten her skirt and hair, and wipe her face of the black smudges._

_“Isak,” she breathes out “I uhm…”_

_“You okay?” He asks - already knowing the answer, but too numb to actually care._

_His brain is already rushing, his mouth already watering for another taste, his mind filling with colors so bright and beautiful._

_He needs more. He needs to forget where he his, he needs to forget who he is, he needs to be gone._

_“No,” Eva sniffles, wiping her nose with the back of her hand and shuffling awkwardly - clearly uncomfortable with Isak’s presence._

_He ignores it._

_“Jonas?”_

_She lets out another loud sob, one that would normally make Isak’s heart hurt for the poor girl, make him reach out and take Eva into his arms, let her know it’s okay. But now - it makes him reach into his pocket and take out the happy powder there._

_“I miss him so much, Isak.” She cries._

_Isak nods. He knows. He misses him too._

_He misses everything._

_“Well,” He looks up to the girl with the most intoxicating smile and usually lively eyes, the girl who swooped in and stole his best friend, and then left - breaking his heart and her own and he smiles. “I have something that might help.”_

_She walks over to him slowly and sits by his side._

_She’s nervous and hesitant but he talks her through it - just like the time Jonas first showed him how to smoke, and Chris taught him how to properly snort._

_He shows her how to escape._

_And when they finish the bag, Eva takes Isak’s hand in hers, lacing their fingers together and smiling wide - both numb and on fire._

_“Thank you, Isak.”_

_“Any time, Eva.”_

.

.

.

 **Jonas** : hey bro. Thought you’d be at lunch. Where are you?

 **Jonas** : Even said you said you’d be here.

 **Jonas** : Isak?

.

.

.

 **Even** : Hey! I thought you were gonna save me a seat? :) boys said they haven’t seen you. What’s up?

 **Isak** : Yeah sorry about that. Left early. Didn’t feel good.

 **Even** : What’s wrong?

 **Isak** : everything

 **Even** : Where are you? Let me come to you.

 **Isak** : Can we meet at yours?

 **Even** : Leaving now.

 **Isak** : Ok.

.

.

.

Even gets to his apartment building in record time. He rushed out of the cafeteria, brushing off the boy’s curious stares and questions, and the worried glances from Jonas. He’s so caught up in getting to Isak that he forgets his backpack on the table and leaves his school books behind.

He ignores his frantic texts and focuses on one thing only: getting to Isak.

 **Jonas** : _What’s going on? Isak isn’t answering my texts._

 **Jonas** : _Is something wrong?_

 **Jonas** : _Damn it Even answer me!_

He doesn’t.

All he can think about is Isak and that little pill. His face in the bathroom - tear streaked and filled with pain, with hurt. How even though Even managed to make him smile, his eyes remained still, stuck in there misery.

And all Even could think was: _who did this to you? Who broke you this badly?_

All he could think was: _please, please let me help put you back together. Let me show you how strong you are. Let me help you help yourself._

He’s never experienced a tram ride so long in his entire life, his body buzzing restlessly and anxiously, he can only imagine the look in his eyes as people cast him odd, nervous, and curious glances.

When he finally reaches his stop, he runs, and runs, and runs, until he reaches Isak.

The younger boy in sitting against Even’s door - knees pulled to his chest, arms wrapped protectively around himself, head resting there.

Even had never seen anything so pitiful or heartbreaking in his entire life as Isak’s body shivers, cowering in on itself.

“Isak…” He says lowly, cautiously, trying not to spook the boy at his feet.

When Isak looks up, Even’s heart clenches as tightly as his fists by his side.

His eyes are red rimmed and his nose is bright pink. His teeth hold his bottom lip between them and some water lingers on his lashes.

And he knows that he can’t help it, even if he tried to, if he tried to listen to Sana and take her advice, he still wouldn’t be able to stay away from Isak. He can’t help the care and...pull he feels for this damaged, miserable, breathtaking boy.

He’s just as beautiful and sorrowful and unapproachable looking as the first time Even laid eyes on him. Expect, this time, Even is allowed to approach. So, he does.

He steps forward, slowly but assured, and reaches a hand out to make his meaning clear.

Isak hesitates -- his eyes moving slowly from Even’s hand, to his eyes, to his hand again.

Even stays - hand extended, expression vulnerable, his stomach stuck in knots.

_Take my hand, please. Please, let me help you._

He’s never felt so much relief as he finally feels the warm skin of Isak’s palm touch his own - he lets Even pull him carefully to his feet, he lets Even unlock his apartment door and pull him inside of it’s warmth and safety, he lets Even help.

.

.

.

They sit on the same windowsill they did the first time Isak was here - scared and skittish and running away from Even.

Now, he stays.

Even can tell Isak is embarrassed by the obvious water stains on his face, his cheeks painted with a permanent blush, and his eyes cast down, only glancing up once or twice as he sips the tea Even made him.

Even wait patiently for him to start. He knows it might take awhile, but he doesn’t mind.

He’ll wait patiently for him.

From this moment - watching Isak’s everyday facade slip slowly, his walls beginning to crumbling without his permission, no snark or wit or attitude covering up how truly broken this boy is, nothing shielding him from Even - he knows he’ll always be here for Isak. He’ll always be patient. Waiting.

Isak - so made up of contradictions. The most beautiful boy that Even has ever laid eyes on. The boy who asks too many questions during Even’s favorite movies. The boy who hides his kindness behind a scowl and ugly words. A boy filled with so much hatred and pain. A boy filled with so much curiosity and wonder and strength. Insensitive and aggressive but soft when he needed to be. A boy both selfish and giving. A boy stitched together by complete opposite sides of the same cloth.

Even always hated puzzles when he was younger. He’d much rather be off somewhere making adventures for himself. He was restless and needed to move. But Isak was a puzzle that Even would never give up on.

Even traces the rim of his mug with his index finger, letting the steam rising from the liquid to soothe him, calming his nerves.

When Isak finally breaks the silence, the words are blunt and unforgiving, “I’m not a good person, Even.” His voice quivers, barely more than a whisper.

His eyes remain hidden from Even, staring pointedly down at his own mug, letting Even see nothing but the top of his washed-worn hat.

He wishes he could see the emotions behind his eyes.

Mostly, just to calm himself, because he can already hear the sincerity in Isak’s voice. He truly believes his words. He believes he’s a bad person.

He feels his heart split in two for Isak, his ribs aching as he feels them splinter one by one, each worse than the last.

“Why do you say that?” Even asks, holding back his building emotions, trying to focus on Isak and Isak alone.

The younger boy steals Even’s earlier words from him, repeating them just as simply, “Because it’s true.”

Green once again meets blue - unwavering, unconvincing, completely serious.

“I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t a good person.” Even tells him honestly.

He may be reckless and restless, but he wasn’t stupid, he saw the good in Isak. He felt it every time he looked at him with wide, honest green eyes and bashful blinks.

Isak’s eyes steel themselves, hardening, his lips pulling into a hard straight line - “You don’t know me, Even.” Isak huffs out, obviously frustrated with Even’s response to his words. “You don’t want me, okay? You...you want who you think I am. You like who you think I am. But it’s not true. I’m broken. I hurt people and I lie and I steal and cheat. I run.”

Isak’s voice rises with each word, each coming out more frantic and breathless than the last.

Those words ruin something in Even. His heart throbbing, wanting to reach out for the boy across from him. Huddled and cowered and shivering.

Even pauses for a moment, just watching Isak, watching as the sun kisses his skin through the window, a rainbow cast across his face, outlining his bright lips and making his pale skin glow.

He sees the sadness, the loneliness, the pain underneath his hardened eyes and knows it matches the empty spaces that used to fill his own body.

He sees a mind so beautiful and on the edge - so close to destruction - like his was once before.

“We’re all broken, Isak.”

He moves forward now, placing his mug of tea down and moving towards the boy with confidence, even as Isak flinches slightly, eyes widening.

“Wha…”

Even moves until he’s right in front of the younger boy. His folded knees touching Isak’s. He reaches and uncurls the blonde’s hands from his mug, setting it to the side.

He’s determined to do this. He’s determined to make Isak see.

“Even, what are you doing?” Isak’s voice is wracked with nerves but Even pays it no mind.

He simply takes Isak’s left hand into his right - cradling it gently - his fingers tracing the light lines and small indents of his palm.

“When I was younger,” Even speaks softly, he can feel Isak’s eyes trained on the top of his head as he continues to focus on their hands, noticing how perfect Isak’s hand feels in his own. “I used to dream about all the things I wanted to do with my life. Holy shit, so many things. Everything was so beautiful and bright to me. Hopeful. My dad used to joke with me about my annoyingly unwavering optimism. I had so many thoughts and ideas and dreams. And then one day it just stopped. All the colors disappeared and everything went dark, and then I just didn’t feel anything at all. My mind was...broken.”

Even brings Isak’s hand closer to him, knowing Isak can feel his warm breath there, warning him what's to come.

“Why are you telling me this?” Isak asks.

Even lets his eyes meet Isak’s own. Soft, wondering, confused. So fucking beautiful that his chest builds with warmth just like always and his fingertips tingle.

“To show you that you’re not the only broken one here. We’re all damaged, Isak.”

“Is that how you got those scars?” Isak questions, eyes not leaving Even’s own.

He nods, letting everything out, giving this part of himself to Isak, trying to show him that he doesn’t have to do this alone. Not as long as Even is around.

Maybe if he shares a piece of himself, Isak will return the favor.

“That’s how I got the scars.”

Isak swallows thickly, eyes beginning to glaze over with his emotions, as Even brings his hand to his lips -- he takes his time. He lets his skin skim Isak’s, kissing each one of his shaking fingertips, getting to know his touch, his fingerprints, before he places one final firm kiss in the center of his palm and whispers --

“You’re not alone, Isak. You don’t have to do this alone.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep the feedback coming! I loved hearing your thoughts and feelings and predictions last chapter! :) what did you think? Was this chapter a surprising one!? I've had this one in the works and outlined since I began this fic and it still kind of shocked me! Hahaha.
> 
> Let me know! I love chatting!


	15. It Just Feels Right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's continued support and patience for this story continues to leave me speechless. I can't say it enough. Just...thank you<3\. 
> 
> My inspiration is beginning to slowly but surely make its way back to me while reconstructing these chapters. I hope I'm able to do it justice.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> .
> 
> WARNING: I'm sure you all have by now but please, please, please be sure to check the tags again and be aware of your personal triggers! I've said it from the start...this story is a dark one and it deals with heavy and very dark subject matter. So, be careful and read with caution!

_._

 

_._

 

_._

_“Life is tough my darling, but so are you.”_

_......_

_She didn’t mean to hear him. She wasn’t spying or trying to be nosy like Isak sometimes called her when she peaked around corners and tried to inch into her brother’s room without knocking._

_She didn’t want to be nosy, she didn’t want to be annoying. She just liked hanging out with Isak. Her older brother. Her best friend._

_It frustrated Lea when Isak acted like he was so much older than her. It wasn’t even like he was a teenager yet. He was only eleven, only four years older than her._

_But, she loved her brother, so when he asked her to knock before coming into his room - she started to. Most of the time. Trying to respect his privacy._

_But now, she pauses, a soft but attention grabbing noise coming from behind Isak’s bedroom door._

_It’s late. She doesn’t know what time it is exactly but she was already tucked into bed, moonlight streaming through her window, having dreams about one day getting a brand new bike like uncle Lee got Isak, before waking up to get a glass of water._

_Lea waits there in front of Isak’s door, halfway to the kitchen, she could swear she just heard…_

That _._

_Again._

_It’s a small, weak, pathetic sound. A slight whimper._

_Lea’s brows furrow and she bites her lip as she tries to map out her next move._

_Should she knock? Should she just go in? Is Isak in pain?_

_She stares at the paper hanging there for a moment - Lea made it for him in art class the other day. She thought it might be too girly for him. It was a poorly drawn picture, page filled with hearts and flowers and stars, colorful and bright -- simply saying Isak’s Room -- matching the one Lea hung on her own door._

_But Isak didn’t think it was too girly like the girls in her art class told her he would. Isak was different than other brothers. Even when he was grumpy and annoyed with Lea - he was never mean. He loved her. So, when she gave him the picture, he smiled widely and kissed her forehead in thanks, immediately taping it up on his door._

_“What are you doing up, little girl?”_

_Lea lets out a nervous gasp, looking to her left, where the sleep heavy voice came from._

_Uncle Lee stands just a few steps from her. He’s tall and frumpy and tired looking. His face is flushed and his pajamas are rumpled messily - like he’s been tossing and turning in his bed._

_“Hi Uncle Lee,” Lea greets quietly, trying to keep her voice low, not wanting Isak to hear if he was awake. “I was just going to get some water.”_

_Uncle Lee nods. His eyes look dark, almost no color there at all. It makes an uneasy feeling roll through the small girl’s stomach._

_Sometimes Lea feels bad for the way Uncle Lee makes her feel. Uneasy and a little on edge. Sometimes he moves a little too slowly and watches a little too intently. He talks lowly to Isak and Isak is always more cranky afterwards. Lea doesn’t like it. And she feels bad because she knows Uncle Lee is sad and lonely._

_“Well, you better hurry before your dad wakes up and sees you up so late,” Uncle Lee continues, he jerks his chin towards the door behind her, “And don’t worry about your brother. I checked on him earlier. He’s fine.” His eyes are fixed on her, so intense, so serious, that it makes bumps rise on Lea’s arms - the back of her neck tingling as the hair there rises as well._

_She shivers._

_She tilts her head, giving her uncle a confused look._

_How did he know she was worried about Isak?_

_But Uncle Lee doesn’t react to her expression - he just nods, gives a small wave, and heads towards his room - leaving Lea even more confused and worried than she originally was._

_Something about the harshness in her Uncle’s voice sets Lea’s teeth on edge -- the firmness, despite his uneven tone, the slight shake of his words -- makes Lea stop._

_She doesn’t second guess herself now. Maybe a little too wise for her age, not putting all the pieces together, but knowing that something here wasn’t right._

_No one tells her when she can and can’t check on her brother._

_So, she turns, not knocking, and walks straight into Isak’s room._

_The air in the room is hot and stifling -- sticky and uncomfortable. It’s dark and quiet._

_The only noise is still coming from Isak. Small sniffles and soft whimpers._

_Lea has to squint, trying to see through the blackness of the room. She can only see the outline of her brother. He’s huddled in the center of his bed, looking so small and feeble. His limbs are pulling tightly to his body, his blanket on the floor beside his bed, his face buried into the pillow beneath him, cries muffled - only his bright blonde curls discernible through the darkness._

_He doesn’t move despite the loud creak of the door as Lea enters, so she calls out tentatively, “Isak?”_

_She tip-toes closer, her heart beginning to beat boldly against her chest, her nerves spiking._

_She’s never seen her brother like this._

_She’d rather see him grumpy and scowling, angry at Lea for breaking the rules and not knocking._

_“Isak,” she tries again when he still doesn’t answer._

_He doesn’t reply until she reaches the edge of his bed. She can see his body shaking, turned on his side, knees pulled to his chest, face still hidden to her._

_She can already feel the tears begin to pool beneath her eyes. Her brother looks hurt and she has no idea what to do, or why he looks this way._

_Isak isn’t supposed to look this way. Isak is strong and fierce and protective. Her older brother, her hero. He should never look like this._

_“Go away, Lea” She hears him mumble into his pillow. The words lack any real strength however. They’re weak and meaningless._

_Lea would never leave Isak like this and he knew that._

_She climbs onto the bed carefully, noticing the gross wetness of the sheets, the sweat that lingers on Isak’s body and makes his pajama bottoms and sleep shirt stick to his skin._

_When Lea lays her small hand on Isak’s quivering shoulder, he flinches, and Lea’s heart hurts._

_“Lea, I said go away!”_

_She doesn’t._

_She moves closer, she slides beside him, she presses her small body to his protectively. She ignores the smell of sweat that lingers in the room and the disgusting feeling of Isak’s clammy skin._

_“What’s wrong, Isak?” She asks, wishing there was something she could do to make this better “Why are you crying?”_

_Isak is always there for Lea._

_He did everything for her. He would do anything for her - Lea knows._

_He’s always there to protect her from the monsters that creep into her nightmares - letting her sneak into his room and sleep in his bed when she got too scared._

_He cleans out her scrapes and places bandaids on her cuts when she skins her knees from playing outside._

_He makes her sandwiches after school and taught her how to tie her shoelaces because Pappa was too busy and Mamma was too forgetful._

_He always gave her half of the candy that Uncle Lee bought him and always let her ride his new shiny bike._

_Lea couldn’t stand seeing him like this. Isak was strong. Isak was happy. Isak was good. He shouldn’t be this sad. Ever._

_Instead of answering Lea’s question, his body rocks with another heartbreaking sob, his limbs jerking against Lea’s embrace._

_She wraps her arms fully around him, tightening her hold, being okay with not knowing for now -- just focusing on her comforting her brother._

_“It’s okay, Isak.” She tells him, repeating the words he often says when she stumbles into his room crying because her dreams got bad again or Mamma is acting too crazy, “It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here.”_

_Isak doesn’t stop shaking, he doesn’t say anything in return, he never lifts his face from it’s hiding place in the pillow, but he doesn’t try to pull away either. He lets his little sister hold him in the stillness of his room. He lets his body settle back into hers. He lets himself cry in her presence as she continues to whisper._

_“Just get it out,” Lea tells him, “and in the morning it’ll be gone and we can play outside, okay? You and me.” It’s what Isak always tells her._

_Isak cries until sleep eventually overtakes his mind and his snores fill the room._

_Lea doesn’t notice until his body stops shaking in her arms that she has tears on her face that match Isak’s own._

.

.

.

Isak wakes with slow blinks and restless limbs. The light in the room is low and the air around him is mild and quiet.

The first thing he notices is just how warm he is. Cuddled into a soft fabric that smells like a light aftershave. It’s so fresh and subtle that Isak finds himself snuggling closer, burying his nose into the softness next to him.

It isn’t until he blinks awake completely, looking around the room with blurred vision, sleepy eyes, that he realizes his surroundings are unfamiliar. Yet, he knows exactly where he is.

He remembers Even’s words from earlier. So open and honest and heartbreaking. So beautiful and comforting and unsettling. So _Even_.

His palm still tingled where Even’s lips had touched his skin -- so gentle, so pretty.

The second thing he notices is that he’s...too hot. Sweat is gathering uncomfortably at the back on his neck and between his shoulder blades.

His throat is itching.

Like, really, really fucking itching.

He hasn’t woken up like this in awhile. He thought he had gotten past this part. This part of him that does nothing but crave. His body and mind calling out forcefully for what he’s denying it.

Sure, he still had a craving here and there. The thoughts still wandered in - thoughts of forgetting everything and getting lost for awhile.

But he hasn’t woken up like this in a few weeks. Completely consumed by the cravings. His mouth dry and wanting to taste. His eyes sore and his nose burning.

His fingers twitching - wanting to call, call and ease the insistent nagging, the forceful pull, telling him that all he needed right now was the drugs.

“You’re up.”

Isak shoots up, letting the blankets fall from his heated body, his eyes finding Even right away - leaning casually against the frame of his bedroom door.

He blinks over at him rapidly.

“You okay?” Even asks, his words soft, caring - the same look from before in his eyes. Honesty. Something real.

Isak nods, swallowing, looking down at the gray covers beneath him - not trusting his own voice.

_No. I want drugs._

He doesn’t really know what else to think, or what to say anyway.

He doesn’t know what to do about any of this.

Even... _kissed_ him.

Over and over he pressed his soft, comforting lips to Isak’s skin. His fingertips, his palm, his eyes never leaving Isak’s. They were filled with something strong - something Isak couldn’t really identify.

It was something that made Isak want more, even if he didn’t know exactly what that more was. It was something that made Isak believe Even’s words. It made Isak have dangerous thoughts -- thoughts of what his life could be. Something good. Something better.

Even kissing him was brave, risky even -- knowing Isak and who he is and how he is. It made Isak’s insides quake.

He noticed how beautiful Even’s blue was again, how soft his lips felt, how good his warm felt so close to Isak’s body.

Thoughts that usually made Isak sick to his stomach - like after Isak was with Chris and all he wanted to do was disappear - mind filled with a dark spiral of hatred and sickness.

He didn’t feel that with Even.

The older boy’s words made Isak feel anything but sick.

They made him feel safe and protected. They made him feel cared for.

He didn’t know why, he couldn’t explain even if he wanted to, but he knew.

Even made Isak forget about the sickness inside of himself for awhile.

It was both dangerous and everything that Isak wanted.

“How was your nap?” Even asks, making Isak’s eyes lift and meet his again. He’s in the same clothes from earlier, hair messy, eyes tired, “You were really knocked out.” He chuckles.

Isak shrugs sheepishly, letting his eyes linger on Even’s, shifting uncomfortably under his line of questioning.

“You talk in your sleep, you know.”

Isak’s eyes snap directly back to his.

Isak doesn’t tolerate liars - hypocrite or not.

“I do not!”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, Even, I don’t.”

“Oh, yes Isak. You totally do.”

Even’s pink lips lift up at the edges in amusement, continuing to poke fun at the fragile looking boy laid messily in his bed, and Isak wants to joke along, smile too, he really does.

Except...that he can’t imagine what he would have said. He was in a pretty deep sleep, not remembering what he dreamt about, but he knew his dreams got dark. Lea’s told him about his night terrors. How he thrashes and yells and sweats right through his clothes until she’s able to forcefully shake him awake.

They don’t happen often, and Isak never remembers what his nightmares were about, but each time leaves Isak feeling emptier, more tired than the last.

Isak bites his lip and searches for a way to ask without really asking.

However, his face must show his questioning and nervousness because before the boy gets a chance to speak, Even is beating him to it, shaking his head quickly and reassures Isak, “Nothing bad or embarrassing or anything like that. Just something about a baby elephant and some peanuts.”

Even’s smile is a little bit crooked and a lotta bit beautiful.

Isak doesn’t know if he’s lying or not, but he doesn’t question it. He appreciates Even’s words either way.

“I’m cooking by the way. Come on.” He says, before turning, not waiting for an answer.

So, Isak does.

.

.

.

“Frozen pizza?” Even questions, again, his eyes and voice filled with worry, expression incredulous, “Out of all the food in the entire world you’re going to tell me that your favorite one is frozen pizza?”

Isak shrugs, trying to bury his smile behind serious eyes, pretending not to find Even’s worry endearing, his expression adorable - his eyebrows raised high and his lips pulled downwards.

“I haven’t tried much food,” Isak tells him honestly “What can I say. I’m not very cultured.”

“Well...okay but... _frozen pizza_?”

“Oh god. You’re one of those people that wakes up at six in the morning to do yoga aren’t you?”

Even lets out a deep chuckle, a sound that makes Isak’s stomach flip-flop.

“Not even close,” He smiles, letting his eyes flick over to Isak, where he sits on the counter, a place that is becoming oddly familiar to him, before quickly and efficiently turning back to his chopping, “I just don’t like putting literal poison in my body.” He says, just to get the reaction he knows Isak is going to give.

And he doesn’t disappoint - he lets out a scoff of disbelief, eyes rolling towards the ceiling, “Stop being so fucking dramatic.” He huffs “There are so many things worse than frozen pizza that I can put into my body.”

Even hums, continuing to chop the cucumber for his fresh salad, nodding.

He feels the question resting on his tongue, his mind wrestling with itself, debating whether to ask the question or not. On the one hand, Isak was the one to bring it up. On the other hand, he’s just starting to let Even in. He’s just starting to open up and let Even be a part of his life. He let him comfort him and touch him and make him better...even if it was just for the smallest of seconds. And that’s all Even wants to do. He wants to make it better.

He doesn’t know exactly what kind of demons live in Isak’s mind, but he can see them, as clear as the ones that linger within Even himself. Waiting, watching, torturing.

He’s getting so close and he doesn’t want Isak to bolt.

He starts chopping the second cucumber as Isak hops off the counter beside him - moving to the sink and getting himself a glass of water. Even smiles at Isak’s comfort and ease here.

His chest still feels warm and fuzzy from earlier as he watched the yellow and pink colors of the sunset highlight Isak’s sleeping face, the boy tucked away between his blankets, looking smaller and more fragile than ever. His eyes fluttered behind his closed lids.

Even had to resist the urge to reach out - to push away the curls that kissed the skin of his forehead. He wanted to trace invisible patterns using the light freckles covering his face. He looked so young. So open and peaceful and free of pain - mumbling quietly as he dreamed.

He looked so incredible _right_ in Even’s bed. Soft and sleep-warm.

Even’s never felt so dizzy with the butterflies that danced in his stomach and the feelings that pooled in his chest.

He just wanted Isak.

He wanted Isak anyway he could get him.

But he wanted to know, he _needed_ to know.

He’s been diving in head first all day today - why stop now?

“Like what?” Even jumps right in, trying to keep his voice casual and as even as possible, “drugs?”

He doesn’t look back at Isak as he turns the faucet off, continuing to stare down pointedly, and Isak feels his muscles tense automatically, glass resting at his lips.

He’s quiet for a moment, before taking a generous gulp of his water, wiping his chin with the back of his hand gracelessly.

He walks back over to Even and leans against the counter, watching the movements of Even’s hands, moving with such skill and ease.

Isak shrugs, even though Even’s eyes remain down, crossing his legs and humming, “Yeah, like drugs I guess.”

Even pushes on, despite his anxiety, “Do you do that a lot?” He asks “Drugs, I mean?”

Isak’s eyes practically burn a hole in the side of Even’s face. He watches as Even licks his lips, catching the little droplets of sweat that are gathered above his top lip, despite the chill in his apartment. He notices how hard Even is concentrating on the task at hand - chopping the cucumbers a little too thinly.

Isak narrows his eyes, “Sometimes.” He answers simply, taking another sip, his throat still dry.

Even continues to nod, his face suspiciously blank. Even’s face is always so expressive, his words accompanied by wild hand gestures and raising eyebrows and colorful eyes.

Isak knows he’s always been a naturally, overly cautious person, but now he’s a paranoid person. His innate urge to second guess and question has only grown worse over the years - after all the lies he’s been told and the secrets he’s been forced to keep. He doesn’t let himself trust. Not even caring, lovely boys with hypnotizing eyes, kind words, and the most comforting touch that he’s ever felt.

He lets his eyes stay on Even - moving slowly up and down his body - and back again.

It frustrates Isak that he can’t pinpoint what it is about this boy. He doesn’t know why he’s so drawn to him. He doesn’t know how Even just seems to get when Isak needs space, or comfort, or silence. Like he can read Isak better than he could ever read any book. He’s caught on to the way Even’s eyes follow him - gauging his mood and looking out - almost protectively. It should make Isak mad. He doesn’t need a fucking babysitter. But it doesn’t. It makes Isak feel cared for. It makes him feel warm.

He doesn’t know how Even manages to pull these feelings from Isak, feelings he’s buried so deeply, so carefully and well, that they were never meant to be found.

Even’s gaze always feels good. His eyes are mid-morning sunshine and freshly baked cookies. His gaze is light summer breezes and late night calmness.

Isak is usually so tired. The kind of tired that no amount of sleep can fix. The kind of tired that leaves his muscles weak and his mind vacant.

He always feels so drained of everything. Always drained. Always sad. Always wasting his life.

But not here.

Not when this blue is around.

Here he feels full. Blue surrounding him and keeping him safe. Making his bones move a little easier and his mind work so much better. The void between his bones beginning to fill.

He wants to trust Even.

He doesn’t know why but he _wants_ to.

And it’s extremely maddening to him.

Even stays quiet now, not following up on anymore of his questions. Isak places his glass down, the noise ringing loudly within the quiet buzz of the room, making the older boy beside him jump.

Isak moves forward, letting himself get close enough to Even to feel his body heat, see every scar, every blemish, every mole that covers his face.

Close enough for Even to notice, stop chopping, and angle his body towards the shorter boy. His eyes are confused and curious.

Isak looks down, taking Even’s hand into his own, feelings flooding in harder and harder with each passing second. Moving like a rainstorm within him - coming on fast and violent - sloshing against Isak’s insides.

He remains oddly calm however, despite the chaos inside of him. Despite the rapid beating of his heart and the tremor of his lips.

He stretches Even’s arm out, so it’s straight and exposed to them both, knowing he’s breaking so many rules.

But Even doesn’t pull away.

He just stares - eyes wide and fearful - as Isak examines the scar that marks his arm.

Isak doesn’t hold back either, he reaches out and touches the edge of Even’s scar. He traces it tenderly to where it meets the crease of his elbow. It's texture is rough and ragged - contradicting the way the rest of Even’s skin lays so smoothly.

Even’s skin is heated against his touch, warming every part of him so easily, right down to his bones - beyond that.

His empty chest begins to fill yet again as he lifts his eyes, blue shining so dazzlingly, hesitant and scared but still comforting and strong all the same.

Isak speaks before he gets the chance to stop himself, talk himself out of what he’s been wanting to ask for weeks of friendship now, “What’s it like to want to die?”

The words come out clear and loud even though they almost catch in his throat on the way out.

Truthfully, he thinks he already knows.

He’s never actually thought about death or the process of killing himself - how he would do it or where. But he knows what it’s like to want to disappear. He knows what it feels like to be so helpless, so worthless, so lost, that you can’t see any way out. He knows what it’s like to be trapped and suffocated and stripped bare of anything that once made him strong.

He thinks he knows, but he wants to hear Even’s words, he wants to know how someone so happy and light and beautiful could possibly feel the same thing.

Isak doesn’t really expect Even to answer, he expects him to shrug it off and bring up how they’re not supposed to speak of this, but he does answer --

His voice is delicate, like it might shatter any moment, and he speaks slowly but with honesty, “I...I don’t really know actually. I wasn’t really thinking about it. I wasn’t thinking anything. I was done thinking. I was done living. Or at least...done living the way that I was.”

Isak can see the ghosts that live behind the blinding blue of Even’s eyes as he stares steadily on. Both boys completely still, almost as if they’re afraid to move and break this moment of it’s meaning.

“I guess...I guess I just hated my brain and I only knew one way to make it stop.” He tells Isak, breathy and true, “I used to think my brain was wired wrong. That I was wired wrong. But I eventually learned that I wasn’t wrong. Just different. And I’m so thankful that I didn’t die that day.”

Isak licks his lips, wanting to tell Even how thankful he is too, but he doesn't.

Instead, “What if that _different_...ruins you? Ruins your whole life. Your family.” Letting himself say more than he ever has, letting more of himself show than he ever thought he could.

Even’s eyebrows pull together, tugging the skin there down, his fingers twitch under Isak’s hold.

“Just because something isn’t necessarily wrong doesn’t mean it’s not harmful. That’s why I wanted to die. I was hurting. You still have to reach out and get help for the _different_.”

Isak nods, looking back down at the brutal marks caused by Even’s... _different_.

Isak would take on Even’s different if he could. He would add it to his own dark twisted different. If it meant he wouldn’t have hurt this badly. If he wouldn’t have felt the need to leave these scars on his perfect skin.

Isak pushes his fingers harder into the healed skin and feels Even shake.

“My mom is crazy.” Isak tells him.

It’s the first time he’s said the words out loud. He’s thought them a million times before, let them repeat over and over again in his head, but he’s never let them leave his lips like this. So simply. So final.

The ground doesn’t shift beneath him, the earth doesn’t shatter, everything stays the same in the quiet calmness of Even’s kitchen.

The words don’t change a thing. The truth doesn’t change a thing.

Even doesn’t flinch or comment on the word. He has a feeling that despite the harsh ignorant word, Isak needs this moment right now, he needs to get out whatever he’s about to say.

So he remains still, gently urging Isak on, saying easily, “Oh yeah?”

Isak doesn’t meet Even’s eyes yet, “Yeah. She acts crazy, I mean. She just...she yells and she hurts herself. She hurts other people sometimes. She...she doesn’t always remember me. But she...she doesn’t mean to be. I mean...she doesn’t want to be.”

Isak shakes his head in frustration, not being able to find the right words, tell Even what he really means.

“No one chooses to be mentally ill, Isak.” Even tells him softly “Your mom is sick.”

“No, no,” Isak huffs, moving his eyes back to Even’s - his frustration evident in his stare “I know that. I didn’t think she- what I meant was...I just think she needs help. Or...she wants help. She says she does.”

Even nods, eyes never moving, never shifting - “That’s good, Isak. That’s really fucking good. The biggest and hardest step is always the first one.”

Isak takes a step closer to Even without realizing, “I’ve always wanted to help her” He says - voice so low that it’s practically a whisper “I just never knew how.”

“I can help you help her...if you want.” Even’s words are hesitant, careful, but so meaningful.

Isak feels his heart grow, thrumming with his gratitude, his softness towards this boy and his genuine care.

Isak doesn’t deserve it, yet Even continues to give it so willingly.

So, Isak decides he’s not going to try to fight it so hard anymore.

It comes out of nowhere -- Isak is suddenly lifting on his toes, tilting his chin up, and moving himself forward.

It’s probably the least romantic moment either one of them could have picked.

But it just feels _right_.

Isak feels protected -- Even’s presence towering and commanding, making him feel safe, free to say these things that have been weighing him down, plaguing his heart, things he’s never said to anyone before, letting them remain unchanging inside his brain, rotting away there.

But he feels like he can trust Even with this part of himself. That he won’t hold it over him or make him feel afraid of this. He feels on even footing with this boy with just as many secrets and ghosts and sadness and Isak it seemed.

He feels like it’s possible here. It’s possible to be okay.

So, he moves forward, catching Even off guard, pressing his lips fully to the boy’s above him.

Even’s lips are large and heated and fit perfectly between his own. Molding to his like they were meant to be there.

It sends a chill from the top to the bottom of Isak’s spine, lips tingling, blood rushing through him, pounding loudly in his ears, the tips of them burning red.

His chest presses firmly against Even’s - hard and strong and the best kind of support.

His hand suddenly drops Even’s arm from his hold, moving up to curl desperately into the fabric of Even’s shirt, pushing himself impossibly further into the boy’s body. Wanting to get closer, as close a humanly possible, until every part of his body touches every part of Even’s. He’s suddenly frantic and needy and desperate for this moment.

He can tell he’s more enthusiastic than Even is about the kiss, more into it, taking the dirty-blonde off guard, until he catches up. His mind finally syncing up with his body.

He begins to kiss Isak back, leaning into the connection, letting his lips move slowly but vigorously with Isak’s. His hands move up and he cradles the younger boy’s face in his hands - large and warm and soft. He tilts Isak’s chin higher, pulling his face even closer, and he lets his tongue glide smoothly and slickly across Isak’s bottom lip - silently asking for access.

Access that Isak grants.

His lips fall open, almost on instinct, a small gasp escaping him as Even doesn’t hesitate to slip his tongue inside the generous, delightful heat of Isak’s mouth.

Even tastes like the sweetest kind of honey.

_Pure goodness._

No kiss has ever made Isak’s toes curl quite like this.

They explore each other’s mouths, Even’s tongue moving with his expertly, Isak's hands clenching tighter and tighter around his shirt - needing something to keep him steady, something to ground himself - as the world around him begins to spin.

And when Even moans softly, barely audible, into Isak’s mouth - he doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything so beautiful.

He pulls away only when the heat in the pit of his stomach begins to grow too hot, when the weightlessness in his chest begins to flutter too intensely, when he knows that if he continues...he won’t want to stop.

He presses his forehead against Even’s, continuing to let the older boy cup his face, keeping his body upright, keeping his mind together.

“Wow,” Even breath still hits Isak’s lips, sweet as sugar.

Isak just nods, before pulling away completely, uncurling his fingers from Even’s shirt, feeling his cheeks blush under the touch of Even’s palms.

The taller boy continues to stare at Isak - his gaze searching, looking for answers to questions that he hasn’t asked yet.

But Isak just clears his throat, trying to settle the feelings in his stomach, and says, “So food?”

He’s not used to this kind of attention. He’s used to quick, sloppy, and mindless.

Not this. Not slow and gentle and...perfect.

Even nods, understanding, letting it go for now, letting this be enough, “Yeah, food.”

.

.

.

Isak doesn’t hear his phone ringing in the next room as the two continue to cook and laugh and ignore the outside world.

Even continues to speak words that make Isak’s cheek color richly and Even’s lips continue to tingle, still able to feel exactly how Isak’s lips were pressed to his own.

Even keeps Isak’s mind occupied, his mood lifted, his view optimistic.

The conversation is simple and effective and makes a feeling of steady calmness fill Isak’s chest --

“So, therapy,” Isak sighs, already seated and comfortable as Even sets up his laptop for another movie, plopping carelessly beside Isak, “Maybe that’s something my mom should do.”

The words are so foreign on his tongue.

“Probably. If she’s sick, a therapist would be the right place to start.”

“Can you give me the number of yours?”

“Absolutely. Dr. Wilson is amazing and I know she works with really good psychiatrists as well. They can help your mom if she needs medication.”

“Okay…”

Then, “My dad doesn’t want her to get help.”

“That sounds selfish.”

Isak nods, “Yeah, you could say that's a good word to describe him.”

He looks over at Even, letting blue calm him, letting himself sink further into the safe feeling of his apartment, the comfort of his couch. He enjoys the familiarity.

Even’s words are simple, his voice comforting, “I mean it, Isak. If you want to do this. I’ll help you. You just have to talk to me. Tell me how to help, okay?

Isak nods, a small barely there smile flitting across his face.

_He knows._

He’s not scared of his father here. He’s not scared of his past or the rushing memories of it. He’s not weak or pathetic here. He’s not a coward or a failure. He doesn't need the drugs - no matter what his body and mind continue to tell him.

He’s just Isak.

He’s just a seventeen year old boy who deserves a chance.

This life is rough, tough, be he knows he is too.

"Okay."

Even gives him one final firm nod, turning back to the movie he’s put in, digging into the food on his plate.

And Isak feels like everything is okay.

Isak _knows_ that everything is okay.

.

But he doesn’t hear the continuous ringing from the room over.

He’s too caught up in his happiness here, the fullness of his chest, the lingering sweetness on his lips.

He doesn’t see the text:

 **Lea** : _You were right. She’s gone._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *peeks nervously from behind my writing desk* So? What do you think?
> 
> I'm a little nervous about this chapter and it took me SO LONG to rewrite in a way I was satisfied with. So don't leave a girl hanging! Feedback is always welcome :)


	16. Faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! 
> 
> I just want to truly and sincerely thank every single one of you for all your patience and encouragement and support and kind words<3\. Every single comment touches my heart and helps me to find the inspiration to continue this story that means so much to me and I am so thankful for each one of you. 
> 
> I'm sorry this chapter took a little longer to get out than expected. I'm still rewriting all the chapters that I lost and this one was a particularly hard one to recreate. 
> 
> I hope you continue to enjoy! 
> 
> .
> 
> I'm sure you're sick of hearing it but remember to ignore any grammar or spelling errors. I'm a horrible editor (I honestly need to find someone to help me with this lol) and I'm super self conscious about it. Also, this chapter might be particularly bad because I reread it and "edited" it while also doing school work so...sorry. Hahaha. I most likely missed A LOT of obvious shit.

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

_"You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think."_

_......_

  
“ _But they laugh at me, Mamma,” Isak continues to pout and complain. His little ten year old mind running a mile a minute, not able to stop itself, not able to let this go._

_They’re currently standing at the kitchen counter which is dirtied with flour and baking powder and chocolate chip crumbs. Isak’s hands are mixing the blended dough messily, his face covered in the baking ingredients, both him and Mamma still in their sleep clothes._

_This is the third day Isak has stayed home from school this week and baked with Mamma._

_“What about your friends?” Anita asks, voice happy and sing-song as she continues to roll the already made dough out, hair up but loose. “Do your friends laugh at you?”_

_Isak’s eyes roll, “That’s the point, Mamma. I told you...I don’t have any friends. Everyone laughs at me. They make fun of my hair and stuff.”_

_Mamma has been getting incredibly forgetful lately. More so than usual. She was never the most reliable person, but she never used to forget this much. At least not that Isak can remember._

_Ever since that one time in the kitchen. That one time that they don’t talk about. That one time that no one talks about. The time that Mamma still doesn’t remember, Pappa pretends never happened, and Lea can’t think about without crying. The time that left Isak with a scar, a constant reminder, just at his jawline._

_She hasn't remembered much since then._

_She sometimes forgets what time of the day it is - beginning to make breakfast just as the sun goes down - before Lea or Isak catch her and remind her that it’s night time. She always forgets to set her alarm for the mornings and make sure Lea is up and ready for school. The kids have been getting better at doing it themselves. Isak even makes sure to pack Lea her lunch for the day. Sometimes she forgets Pappa’s name, calls him something else, something silly that makes Pappa angry. Sometimes she forgets where she is. She’ll walk outside without clothes on and Pappa has to go talk to the neighbors - make sure that they know Mamma didn’t mean any harm._

_She forgets that Isak doesn’t have any friends._

_“I’m sure that’s not true” Anita tuts, turning and chucking Isak’s chin affectionately “How could anyone not like my little boy?”_

_Isak rolls his eyes but smiles fondly up at his Mamma._

_“Mamma, I’m serious” He dips his hands deeper in the dough, trying his hardest to get her to understand, “that’s why I can’t go to school. It’s why I have to switch. I can start over or something. Nobody here likes me and I’m...I just hate school, okay?”_

_Anita sighs quietly, hearing the true sadness in her son’s voice, wanting nothing more than to take it away, chase the sadness out anyway that she can._

_She turns towards her son and smiles softly. His eyes are so beautiful. The clearest color green she’s ever seen and so bright in the afternoon light. Sometimes she can’t believe she helped create something so beautiful. Anita never experienced anything as intensely or instantly as falling in love with her children. The moment the doctor put her baby boy in her arms, she knew that she had a new purpose in life. Her only job was to keep this little baby safe and warm. She wanted to make sure he always felt loved and cared for. She promised that she would tuck him in every night and chase away the monsters that filled his closest. She remembers her eyes filling with water as she thought of all the ways the world could hurt him, so tiny and fragile in her hands, and how hard she would try to stop it from doing just that._

_She remembers promising herself that she wouldn’t fail at this job. This would be the one thing in her life that she would do right._

_It’s getting harder and harder these days, to look after her children. She tries her hardest. But she finds her mind running around more than usual. She gets easily flustered and confused and sometimes forgets her promise to tuck her son in every night._

_But she always tries._

_“I have an idea” She tells him, letting out a loud sigh and placing her dirty hands on her hips “Every time those mean kids say anything that makes you feel sad. Any time that they laugh at you...think of me. Think of how much I love and how I would never, ever make fun of your beautiful hair.” She makes her point by reaching up and playfully tugging one of her son’s curls, watching Isak’s eyes roll dramatically, even as he smiles widely._

_She loves the way his eyes light up with his happiness. That she can still help her children in some way. Even if it’s small. Even if she feels like she’s losing control at every turn. Losing control of every aspect of her life, losing her mind. She can still make her son smile, she can still make him laugh, she can make cookies with him and tell him how gorgeous his hair is._

_Her words are cheesy and not helpful in the slightest but Isak still smiles. He loves his Mamma. And he knows how much she loves him right back._

_She runs her knuckles softly across the skin of his cheek. Her eyes stare directly into his, so he knows how serious she is, how much she means her next words, “I love you, Isak.”_

_His lips lift even more, “I love you too, Mamma.”_

_He wrinkles his nose, pulling away, as she bops it - leaving a cloud of powder behind and some chocolate smeared across Isak’s face._

_She laughs loudly as he shouts, “Mamma!”_

_._

_Isak goes to school the next day. He thinks Mamma would have let him stay home one more time but Pappa didn’t. He said the school would start calling and asking questions if he missed any more days and they didn’t need anymore attention on them. Isak didn’t know exactly what that meant but he didn’t fight it. It was pointless to fight his dad._

_But his Mamma kissed him goodbye, telling him to have a good day, whispering quietly in his ear not to forget what she told him._

_The boys at school still laughed when he tripped in gym class. They still said his hair was messy and stupid. They still laughed. But Isak tried what his Mamma suggested. He thought about how none of these boys probably got to stay home and bake with their Mamma’s. Their mom’s probably didn’t sing as beautifully, he couldn’t imagine they tucked them in most nights, or read them stories about lands far far away._

_And if they did...Isak knew they didn’t do it as well as his mom._

_No, they could never._

_His mom was so special. So talented. So different. And he was so thankful for her._

_So, when he got home that day he was so excited to tell her how it worked. He thought it was silly and pointless but it actually worked. He had to tell her, had to thank her, had to be wrapped in the warmest of hugs._

_But as soon as Isak enters the house he feels something off. The lights are off and the shades are drawn. His Mamma usually liked them open, loved the feel of the sunlight on her skin, said the plants in the house needed it to grow too._

_The air around him was dry and stale and he felt a wave of uneasiness wash over his small body._

_Everything felt still._

_It wasn’t frantic like the day his Mamma went crazy in the kitchen and threw the plate at him. It wasn’t that kind of dread. The kind of dread that was loud and in-your-face. This was something worse. Something quiet and sneaky that had Isak holding his breath and praying that he was wrong. This was a numbing kind of dream that made Isak was to run in the opposite direction._

_He dropped his bag by the door and slowly inched his way inside the house. He never felt this hesitant about his home before. Not even after everything changed. Not even after his mom’s incident._

_He catches a moment from the corner of his eye that catches his attention._

_When he looks over, he feels his stomach drop._

_His mom is huddled in the corner of the room - wedged uncomfortably between the wall and the couch. Her body covered by a large blue throw blanket as she continues to move and shuffle underneath. He can’t see her face but as he moves closer, his small hands beginning to shake at the sight in front of him, he hears her mumbling. He can’t make out her words but he can tell how quickly she’s speak - her voice is low but full of a dangerously frantic kind of energy that makes tears begin to build in Isak’s eyes._

_“Mamma?” His whispers - barely audible and coming out more like a broken squeak as the words catch in his throat._

_He already knows what this is. This is the crazy. A quieter, calmer, but just as scary kind of crazy. It doesn’t make his Mamma yell or chant or throw glass. It doesn’t make her run outside naked or try to make breakfast too early. It’s even scarier. It makes her eyes go empty. It makes her forget all her words from yesterday. It makes her forget all her words - ever. It makes her forget Isak’s face and stare mindlessly into nothingness._

_Isak swallows the tears that well in his throat and turns - heading straight for his room, making his way there as quickly and painlessly as possible._

_He doesn’t know how long he stays there, wrapped in his blanket, tears soaking his pillow cases. He listens as his mom’s voice becomes louder, almost a yell, before quieting again. She continues this pattern. Isak counts to fifteen times before he hears the front door open, hears his sister call out for their mom, and then him._

_She comes into his room only a second later, not bothering to knock, but Isak doesn’t mind._

_“Isak?” She calls out to him._

_He doesn’t answer. He can’t._

_“Isak? What's wrong?”_

_Everything._

_“What’s wrong with Mamma?”_

_“She’s gone again, Lea.” Isak chokes out, eyes squeezing shut too tightly, pain building inside his stomach, a burning in his chest, “She’s gone.”_  
.

.

.

_I didn’t get to say goodbye._

It’s Isak’s first thought as his eyes continue to move over Lea’s text again and again.

 **Lea:** _You were right. She’s gone._

He isn’t sure what he feels. He knew this was coming. He’s the one that told Lea not to get her hopes up. That she would have to go away again eventually. She never stayed around, not when their dad refused to get her help. He’s seen this so many times before. Her coming, her going. He’s gotten used to this kind of numbness that falls over him when it happens. He doesn’t let the feelings in. He doesn’t let himself hope.

Except, this time, he did.

He let himself hope - stupidly and recklessly.

He let himself ask stupid fucking questions about therapy and medication and getting mentally ill people better. He was smarter than that. He knew better than that.

He kind of just stares at the text numbly for a few minutes. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t blink, he doesn’t think he even breaths.

No, he doesn’t know what he feels exactly.

But he knows what he thinks.

The thought won’t stop running through his head, echoing loudly through the corners of his mind, making his temples throb.

_I didn’t get to say goodbye._

_I didn’t get to say goodbye._

_I didn’t get to say goodbye._

He doesn’t even remember what the last thing his mom said to him was. He got too comfortable with her clarity. He let himself grow used to her being around, being clear-headed. It was probably something simple - telling him to have a good day at school or that she’d see him when he got home.

He can’t remember exactly.

He hates that he can’t remember.

_I didn’t get to say goodbye._

He bites his lip, willing the tears he feels behind his eyes to ease, to let him breathe without this heaviness beginning to build on his chest.

He has missed her so much. He’s missed her so fucking much and he finally had her back. It wasn’t like before. So much time had passed. He was fucked up now, not a little boy who needed his mom’s comfort and approval, but he still wanted her here with him. Fucked up or not.

She hasn’t been this clear or this present in so long. Isak stopped counting the days but he knew it was the longest period she’s ever been gone. He didn’t want to think about how long this time would last. He didn’t want to think about how long it would be until he got to see her again, be in the precense of her smile, see her eyes and know someone was home looking back at him, touch her and feel warm and safe instead of scared and helpless.

And now she’s gone again.

And --

“Isak? Are you okay?”

“I didn’t get to say goodbye.” He doesn’t mean to speak the words out loud but they slip carelessly through his lips.

“Say goodbye to who?” Even questions.

They’re still in the middle of their movie marathon. Isak had gotten up to pee and stopped on the way back to check his phone. Apparently, he’d been gone longer than he thought. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been standing in the middle of Even’s room, just staring, but it was obviously long enough for Even to notice and come looking.

Isak looks up, eyes wide and frenzied, where he finds Even standing at the doorway - eyes wondering and worried. His lips pull down into a deep frown as he takes in the expression on Isak’s face.

Isak feels the blood rush through his veins, nerves beginning to claw their way out of their hiding places and pushing to the surface. He feels his mind beginning to wind back up, erasing the ease and comfort he began to feel here in Even’s home.

Isak doesn’t stop talking though, even as his throat begins to tighten, his voice growing thick, “My mom. She-she’s gone.”

“Gone?” Even questions, eyebrows raising to his hairline. “Gone where?”

Isak lets out a humorless chuckle, clutching the phone in his hands too tightly, feeling his knuckles turn white hot.

“No,” He continues to laugh “no, no, no. That’s the point! She hasn’t _gone_ _anywhere_. She’s fucking nowhere!”

He shakes his head. His eyes fall closed and his breath catches. He feels his heart beginning to pick up its pace, hitting his chest harshly. He feels a sharp pain behind his ribs, as if they’re beginning to crack, breaking in half one by one. He tries to count the beats of his heart and keep up with them but he loses track.

His breathing is shallow and short and he just knows there isn’t enough air in this room.

He feels the floor begin to shift beneath him.

He doesn’t understand this. He’s never had this kind of reaction to his mom leaving before. Not even when he was younger. He would cry for a few days sure, but right now he felt like he _couldn’t fucking breathe._

He felt like he was dying and that thought made breathing even harder.

His nose itches. The back of his tongue tingles. His throat burns.

_Fuck._

_Fuck fuck fuck._

He sees white. All he can see is white.

“Isak?”

Heat begins to make its way up Isak’s neck and spread across the now hot skin of his back.

He just wants it to stop.

He just wants everything to stop.

He wants the shifting ground beneath him to break open and swallow him whole.

_I didn’t get to say goodbye._

He feels his closed fist begin to shake around the phone still clutched in it.

_He can’t fucking breathe._

“Isak? Isak! Are you okay? Look at me!”

“I can’t fucking breathe.”

He didn’t realize how close Even was until he feels the older boy’s hands touch his face. They’re warm but still feel contradictory to his own skin and how hotly it burns. They’re large and comforting and already so grounding.

“Isak,” Even says - his voice is soft but his words are firm “Isak you need to breathe with me, okay? Just listen to my voice. Come on, breathe with me. Listen to my breathing, listen to my voice.”

Isak tries. Even’s voice makes its way through the thick fog inside of Isak’s mind, pushing past the screaming that is demanding nothing but a white bitterness. Isak tries his hardest to hold onto it. He tries to listen to his words, tries to understand them, tries to follow their directions.

“Come on,” Even continues “In through your nose, okay? Slowly. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Good. Slow, slow, slow. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

Isak vaguely hears his phone hit the floor as it slips through his loosening fingers, he feels the fabric of Even’s shirt return to the space between his fingers, he moves himself closer to Even and takes comfort in the warmth that radiates from the skin of his chest.

“Good Isak. That’s good. Better. Try to go slower. In and out, okay? In and out.”

His breathing is still choppy and shallow but he follows Even’s words. He breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth until he feels his chest begin to settle a bit. His fingers shake a little less and he begins to feel his legs again - steadier and more firm against the floor beneath him.

“Good Isak.” Isak can feel Even’s breath touch the top of his head and it makes him shiver “Good.”

He starts to take in his surroundings again. He notices how clean and fresh Even smells right now and how soft yet hard his body feels against Isak’s. He remembers how soft his lips were and how warm the air in this room is.

He can see blue again.

His nose still itches but he can let himself see blue.

 _This_ , he thinks.

_This this this._

“Shit, Isak” Even breathes out heavily, noticing the slowness of Isak’s breathing and the way his hands begin to still on his shirt, “What happened? Are you okay? You scared the shit out of me.”

Isak nods, his cheek now pressed against Even’s chest tightly, not really caring how pathetic this makes him look. Even’s already seen so many of his weaknesses and he’s still around. What’s one more?

“I’m sorry” Isak finds himself saying, words muffled into Even.

“Don’t apologize, Jesus Isak” Even tells him “Just...tell me what happened. You were completely fine ten minutes ago. Are- I mean did something happen or are you just anxious?”

Isak shakes his head, tightening his fingers into the fabric and lifting his face from the shirt so he can lean his forehead more heavily there. He wasn’t ready to lift his head completely or see Even’s face. He didn’t want to come out of this hiding place. He didn’t want to see reality yet.

He never wanted to see reality.

Isak can feel Even’s steady heartbeat against his flesh and lets the feeling fill him with comfort.

He swallows thickly and tries to keep breathing. Tries to stay present in this moment. Tries not to think about how far gone he could be right now, not having to feel any of this, not having to feel _anything at all_. All it would take is one simple phone call and a few quick snorts.

_It would be so fucking easy._

His mouth fills with saliva at just the thought.

“Isak?” Even questions again, breaking into his thoughts even further.

His voice is so soft and tender hearted that it makes Isak want to push his thoughts as far away as possible. These thoughts don’t belong anywhere near a voice as sweet as this. He’d die before he let Even hear these thoughts.

The blonde moves one of his hands away from the younger boy’s face, he touches the base of Isak’s hairline, his fingertips moving in gentle circles there, and Isak can feel him hesitating. He can tell Even wants to move his finger up, let them comb through the curls of Isak’s hair and let his touch comfort him, but he isn’t sure if it’s okay. He isn’t sure if they’re there yet. And Isak doesn’t help him out, doesn’t tell him it’s okay. Because in all honesty Isak isn’t sure they’re there either.

“My mom” Isak forces out harshly, the words pushing past the barrier in his chest, “My sister texted and said she’s gone again. Like, not like physically gone. She’s... _gone gone_...inside of her head.”

Isak doesn’t know exactly how to explain it, he knows his words come out jumbled and confusing, but he has a feeling that Even will understand anyway.

“Is she having an episode?”

“I don’t know.”

There’s a pause, “I’m not sure I understand. What does it mean that she’s gone?”

Isak lets out a frustrated sigh.

His frustration is more due to his inability to explain rather than Even not understanding what he’s trying to say.

He pulls away now. He keeps his eyes glued to his fists even as he feels Even’s stare on him - so intent and intense. He’s thankful that his tears didn’t fall. He can feel the dryness of his face, a lack of wetness on his cheeks. He’s cried way too many times in this apartment now.

“I’m not...I don’t really know what you would consider an _episode_ ” Isak explains “But my mom she...she goes away for longer periods of time than she’s around, you know? She has moments of clarity through the craz- through the illness. But she’s gone most of the time. She doesn’t remember us or even herself sometimes. She doesn’t remember where she is. Some days she just sleeps and some days she yells.” His voice begins to rise without permission, getting worked up by just this thought, just saying the words, “We never know. And...she wants help, Even. She really, _really_ does. I _know_ she does. She asks for help but my dad...my dad just won’t fucking let her get it. She’s lost and all alone and I can’t do anything about it, okay? I’ve tried. I’ve tried to help and be there but I can’t. I can’t fucking do it and it’s killing me...she just- she doesn’t mean it! She doesn’t mean to be crazy, she didn’t mean to leave me, but she did. She did and now I have to leave her and it’s-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Even cuts him off, shaking his head and bringing his big hands up to cup Isak’s face once more, feeling him tremble under his fingertips - “its okay. It’s okay you don’t have to explain right now. You’re working yourself up again. It’s alright. We can talk about it later. Just breathe, Isak. Just breathe.”

So, he does. He just breathes.

He lets Even pull his face up, making his eyes snap up and focus on him, making him meet his caring gaze. His stare feels so intimate to Isak. Like it’s reaching into him and touching something deep within his body. Warm and soft and so kind.

Isak doesn’t know if he’s ever experienced this type of _kindness_.

So pure in its intent.

So simple in its execution.

He stares into the softest blue.

He nods, trying to focus on his breathing again. Letting himself sink back into the depths of Even’s eyes.

“You’re okay,” Even nods. His words are so full of conviction that Isak can’t help but believe them.

_He’s okay._

_He’s okay._

_He’s okay._

He nods along with the other boy.

Right now he’s okay.

“Yeah,” He agrees “I’m okay.”

Even smiles lightly, eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that makes Isak’s heart flutter, his skin tingling hot where it’s connected to his.

Isak feels something shift in the air between them. He can’t quite put his finger on it but it's…. _something_. Something strong. Something powerful. Something even more intense then their moment earlier in the kitchen.

Isak doesn’t feel the sickness inside of him right now.

He never feels the sickness with Even. Not fully.

All he can feel, all he can see is _blue_.

“Thank you.” Isak hears himself whisper, never meaning the words as much as he does right now.

He lays his palms flat against Even’s chest and sighs.

He’s thankful.

So thankful that Even is here to ground him right now.

If he wasn’t here, Isak would be long gone, already caving into his weakness. Already letting himself float away - as quickly and efficiently as possible.

But he’s here.

He’s right here, right now.

Even’s smile grows, “Don’t mention it.”

And even through the sadness, through the deep dark pain hidden within every single part of him, Even manages to make Isak smile back.

.

.

.

 **Jonas:** _Bro this is really fucked up. I asked you to keep a fucking eye on him for me and now you’re blowing me off? What the fuck is going on?_

 **Jonas:** _If you don’t answer me soon I’m coming the fuck over there._

Even sighs - feelings of guilt and unsureness crashing over him.

He’s been ignoring Jonas’ messages since he got back to his apartment. Since he’s been wrapped up in everything Isak.

Isak’s in the bathroom. He said he wanted to splash his face with some water and collect himself.

He doesn’t seem to be skittish just yet - which Even takes as a good sign. He doesn’t seem to be ready to run, eying the door or planning his escape like every other time he’s opened a part of himself up in this apartment.

Even feels like he might of actually gotten through to the younger boy this time.

Even watched the walls slowly come down around Isak, he watched the hardness in his eyes begin to lessen, he watched Isak start to listen, really and truly _listen_ as he spoke his words so clearly to Isak - the clearest and most true words he had ever known himself to speak - letting him know that he was here, he was damaged too, and he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. He didn’t care how much baggage Isak carried around with him. Even’s baggage was just as heavy. He didn’t care what the secrets that Isak kept locked up so tightly were. He’d handle them. He’d deal with it. He wanted to.

And the kiss.

Even wasn’t expecting it that's for sure. At least not anytime soon. Not after Isak had spewed such cruel unforgiving words to Even in the car.

_I’m not a fag if that's what you’re asking._

He didn’t understand the boy. Isak was so lost. One minute he’s saying to word right to Even’s face - no sympathy or compassion or regret, and the next minute he’s pressing his lips against the his - soft and tender and so passionately.

Isak is so unpredictable that Even just can’t keep up. He never knew what was going to come next. And Even wasn’t used to this role. He was usually the one who didn’t quite make sense to people. He was the one that people followed blindly, not really sure how to take him. This was new and terrifying and he was so fucking scared of it. Scared of getting hurt. Scared of being left behind. But it was something he needed to do.

He needed to try this... _thing_ with Isak.

Whatever it was. A friendship. Something more. It didn’t matter right now.

All he knew is that he feels it deep in his gut. This is something he’s meant to do.

He can still feel Isak’s lips pressed to his own. They fit right in between his like they belonged there. Like they were always meant to be there, not supposed to leave.

Even had never experienced a kiss quite like that. It was fleeting and took him off guard but still managed to make Even’s toes curl in his shoes. It made his hair stand and his heart scramble in his chest. It made everything in his mind stop for a moment until the only thing he could see, feel, and hear was Isak.

This boy.

_This fucking boy._

The boy with crystal clear emerald eyes that made Even feel at home. Those eyes that challenged Even at every turn.

This fucking boy made up of hurt and pain and everything unseen to the outside world. This boy like no one else Even has ever met.

_This fucking boy._

Even takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself and clear his own mind, knowing he needs to be here for Isak if he isn’t quite settled yet.

He shoots a quick text to Jonas --

 **Even:** _He’s at my place with me. He’s okay. Nothing bad. Just going through some shit._

He isn’t even surprised at how quickly Jonas’ response comes through.

 **Jonas:** _Going through some shit he can’t share with his best friend? He isn’t fucking answering my texts. What’s going on?????_

 **Even:** _I think it’s his mom or something_

Even types out the message but hesitates pressing send. The statement is personal. Something Isak should probably choose to tell Jonas on his own. Telling Jonas this felt just a little too much like over-analyzing. A little too much like spying. He didn’t want to do that Isak.

Even erases the message and starts over just as he hears Isak exit the bathroom and begin to make his way back to the living room.

 **Even:** _I’m sure he’ll tell you eventually. I gotta go he’s coming back from the bathroom. Talk later._

With that he closes his phone and decided he’ll deal with the consequences of that later.

He ignores it as the next message comes through just as quickly.

He looks up to find Isak walking over slowly, his movements a little more hesitant than before, his cheeks rosy with his embarrassment from needing to be calmed down before.

He stands in front of Even and rocks back and forth on his heels, hands tucked away in his pockets, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“I, uhm,” He clears his throat uncomfortably and lets his eyes been Even’s.

Even isn’t sure how Isak manages to get this reaction out of him each and every time with just an obscure look. But he does. Even’s sure he would have gotten used to it by now, but no, his heart still does this stupid flip thing and his stomach still feels as light as it did the very first time he laid eyes on the second year.

“I think I should get going” Isak says, eyes looking down quickly before returning back to Even’s, “I...thank you for everything. The food, the movies, the...you know. Just everything.”

Even can tell how foreign and new these words seem to be to the other boy. So, he’s quiet. Waits for Isak to take his time getting them out.

“But I should go check on my sister and see what’s up” Isak nods. “But really...thank you. You’re a good...friend or whatever.” Isak’s eyes shift as he bites his lip again.

Even feels his lips turn up as the blush spreading across Isak’s cheeks grows darker and darker with each word.

This fucking boy.

He’s adorable.

“Anytime, Isak.” Even nods, his voice catching in the air around them, coming out soft and casual. “I meant every single word I said. Anytime.”

Even traps Isak’s eyes for a moment when the boy finally looks back at him. He makes sure to hold them. He makes sure that his stare will get across everything he’s trying to say.

_I meant everything._

_Even that kiss._

_Especially that kiss._

And when Isak’s cheek stain even impossibly darker and he swallows thickly - nodding and grabbing his belongings in a hurry --

Even knows he understand.

He calls out as Isak makes his way to the door, “And just text or call if you need anything.”

.

.

.

“You’re already judging. I can tell.”

Sana snorts, “Isn’t it a little judgy of you to assume I’m already judging?”

Even rolls his eyes dramatically but smiles fondly at his friend.

She widens her eyes back at him and her smile matches his own. Today her makeup is light and Even loves when her face is so open. When the outside of her matches the inside. Beautiful and soft and light.

Truthfully, Even has never met anyone as soft as Sana. Even in her strength she always carried a subtle kind of softness. One she didn’t let show, didn’t want people to see, but Even saw it.

It was a softness that made him feel safe.

They’re sat at the cafe where Even works. It’s a few hours before his shift starts and he asked Sana to meet him for a drink. He needed to tell her about yesterday. About Isak and these... _feelings_.

Even hasn’t dared to tell Sana about the kiss yet. He can already see the way her eyes hardened when he mentioned just inviting Isak over and helping him calm down from his panic attack.

Her guard is already on high alert up with Isak, Even knows he needs to ease her into the whole thing.

He’s not even sure how he feels about the kiss just yet. He knows he liked it. Well, more than that.

He swears he can still feel Isak beneath his fingers. His skin hot and soft to the touch. He was shaking slightly as Even help his face - he wasn’t sure if Isak noticed for not but neither of them said anything. The kiss caught Even by surprise. It was the last thing he expected from the younger boy. But once his brain caught up with what was happening he responded eagerly.

And when Isak let Even slide his tongue with ease, letting his lips part, opening a part of himself up for the older boy, he swear he saw stars. He felt the heat of Isak’s part in every part of his body - all the way down to his toes.

It wasn’t long or overly sexual.

But even has never felt anything that intense from simply touching his lips to another.

But the action conflicted with Isak’s previous words, his previous fear and anger. Even wasn’t sure exactly how to take that.

He stirs his coffee slowly and watches as the creamer mixes with the liquid - turning it a soothing caramel color.

He clears his throat and doesn’t look up as he speaks, just wanting to get at least some of this over with, “Why are you so convinced that he’s such a bad person?”

And he truly wants to know. Sana, like Even himself, always seemed to be good at reading people. She usually followed her first instinct and said instinct usually turned out to be right. They were usually on the same page with things like this. But with Isak it seemed like they had never been farther from agreeing.

Isak has his problems. He was a little messed up and a lot lost. Even wasn’t completely ignorant to the reality of it all. Isak has his own secrets and a kind of torture living inside of him that Even had never seen before.

And Even spent a lot of time in mental hospitals in his day - he’s seen all kinds of fucked up.

Sana sighs, tapping her spoon against the rim of her mug, taking a long sip of tea before Even looks up and raises his brows at her expectantly.

She takes her time answering. Cautious as ever. Sana rarely said things that didn’t need to be said. When she spoke - what she ways saying mattered.

She lips her darkly stained lips and stares back steadily - choosing her words carefully.

“I don’t think he’s a bad person, Even.” She tells him quietly.

Even makes a face - not believing it for a second.

“Oh really?”

“I don’t! Really. I don’t think he’s a bad person. I just think he’s...damaged. A little too damaged.”

 _Damaged_.

Even didn’t usually like that word. It was a word he used a lot however. A word that he thought a lot when. Especially when he was sick and in the hospital. He labeled himself as damaged and decided the best way to fix that was for him to not be anything at all.

The word damaged reminded Even of that. The decision he made to die. It sounded so... _final_. Like there was no coming back from being _damaged_.

When in reality he was able to fix his damage. He managed to take his brokenness and turn it into something better. He look his tiny shattered pieces and learned to fit them back together, with a lot of hard work and care, he managed. He was here in one piece.

“Yeah, well,” Even shrugs “People would probably say I was a little too damaged too.”

Sana shakes her head, her eyebrows pulling together, her eyes serious in a way that makes Even listen more carefully.

“But you’re _healing_ , Even. Isak isn’t even remotely close to beginning to be where you are. Can’t you see that? You’ve come so far and I just don’t want to see that ruined because of someone you barely know.”

Sana breathes out heavily. She pauses for a moment before continuing quietly, “I think it’ll end badly is all.”

Even stays silent for a while.

 _You’re wrong_ , he wants to reply. _I do know him. I do._

Because he does.

He doesn’t know what his favorite color is or where he had his first kiss. He doesn’t know what his favorite subject in school is or what kind of demons he carries around on his back. He doesn’t know much but Even can see Isak.

He can see him where it really matters.

He can see him simply. He sees a boy with sad eyes and a strain in his heart. He can see a boy with a seemingly permanent frown even though he _wants_ to smile more than anything in the world. He sees a boy who takes comfort in knowing that there’s a version of him, somewhere else out there, that’s happy and safe. Because that’s all he wants to be. He sees someone who wants to ask questions and learn and grow but doesn’t know how.

He can see the kindness in his heart and the passion in his soul. As stupid and cheesy as it sounds, even to Even himself, the cheesiest and lamest person he knows, he can see the _real_ him. He can see the Isak that people think they can - but don’t.

He sees the person he can be, if - _when_ he gets better.

Even doesn’t say that now.

Instead he reaches across the table and takes his friend’s hand in his own.

Sana lets him, sighing lightly at the words she knows are about to come. Even’s denial. His reasoning for not listening to her.

“Sana,” Even starts, “you walked into my hospital room that day and gave me the kind of hope that I needed to start healing. He’s...he’s good, Sana. He is. I _know_ he is. Maybe I can be his Sana.”

Sana rolls her eyes, muttering something under her breath about how fucking cheesy he is, but Even can see the understanding there.

She smiles and shakes her head silently down at the table. Her fingers squeeze her friend’s gently.

Even knows Sana just has his best interest at heart. She always has and always will.

But she’s wrong this time.

He knows that she’s wrong this time.

“But it’s different.” Sana says after a small moment, “You have feelings for him.”

Even exhales - a little frustrated, a little resigned. He lets go of Sana’s small hand to lean back dejectedly in the booth behind him.

“I do” He murmurs.

“And do you even know if he has feelings for you?”

He looks up. Sana’s eyes are filled with an ample amount of both care and worry. A gaze so rich and dark and one that Even loves so much.

He feels his chest begin to warm at her constant care for him. Her constant effort and ability to put up with Even’s shit when no one else seemed to be able to. How she stepped into his life without a reason at all. Helping him pickup is loose, jagged pieces. Just because she could. Just because she wanted to.

He doesn’t know how to reply to her question.

He _could_ tell her about the kiss. He could tell her about Isak’s words in the car. He could tell her about how hot and cold Isak was and how fucking confused he was about the whole situation. He could tell her about the winding and twisting feelings inside of him.

She would worry but she would help.

And he will tell her.

But right now he just doesn’t have the energy.

And -

He looks down at his phone and sighs.

“My shifts starts in ten minutes. I gotta go.”

“Even.” Sana’s eyes narrow as her friend stands.

“Sana,” Even repeats in mock seriousness.

“Just...just think about what I’m saying okay? Just really think about it.”

_I do._

_That’s the problem._

_I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop thinking about him. That’s the point. I can’t leave this alone._

But instead, “Have faith, Sana.” He smiles widely “Just have faith.”

Sana’s eyes reach towards the ceiling as he turns.

“Asshole,” He hears her mumble under her breath quietly.

He chuckles happily.

At least he has Sana.

At least he’ll always have Sana.

.

.

.

“ _It’s bigger than just a love story is all I’m saying. It’s a commentary on life choices made due to the force of love. Also, Shakespeare’s version of the story was more focused on the inevitability of fate where Baz’s version shows more of how we can control our fates - if you really pay attention."_

_Sana’s eyes roll, “Well, all I’m saying is if that's the point he was trying to get across he could have done a much better job at it then a story about teen suicide.”_

_Even chuckles, shaking his head fondly and throwing another piece of popcorn into his mouth._

_It had taken a few weeks of Sana visiting Even in the hospital and quite a few movie visits but Even finally convinced Sana to watch Romeo and Juliet. She fought as long as she could and she couldn’t fight anymore._

_Even thought she’d have a much better reaction to one of his all time favorite movies but it turns out Sana was extremely unimpressed._

_“You obviously have no ability to grasp the concept of true art, Sana.”_

_“Oh spare me that tortured artist bullshit.” She smiles “It’s not that great of a movie or original story for that matter. And in my humble opinion it’s quite over rated.” She leans back on her chair and raises one eyebrow in challenge. Even knows that she’s just trying to annoy him now._

_Even lets out a loud mock gasp, clutching his chest dramatically and widening his eyes at his friend, “How dare you!”_

_She shrugs, “You asked for my honest opinion.”_

_“Yeah, but I didn’t think you would be intentionally cruel now.”_

_Sana leans over and grabs popcorn from the bag that rests on Even’s lap. “Truth hurts.” She replies simply._

_Even’s smile grows._

_Smiling is something Even just recently relearned how to do. Sana seems to have brought it out in him again. He can’t remember a time he had a friend who made him genuinely smile this much._

_Sure, he laughed and smiled when he hung out with the boys. And they were honest smiles, they were honest laughs. He loved them. He didn’t want to disregard those friendships. But it was...different. They were amazing people. They were there for Even when he needed them over the years. They’ve shared countless pre-games and parties and chill movie nights._

_But there was always something stopping Even from telling them everything. Somehow he just knew they wouldn’t understand. They would try, of course, because the were his friends and they cared. But they would never understand._

_He was scared to share the dark parts of his brain that he was usually pretty good at hiding. Those parts of his himself that would shake and rattle his brain until he was forced to listen to them. Those parts of his brain that were sick._

_It was different with Sana though. She didn’t seem to mind his quiet moments. The times where he was too lost to talk. The times where he didn’t even move when she entered the room and drifted in and out of consciousness. She would still be there, in the corner, reading a book quietly. Smiling every time their eyes met. Even wouldn’t smile back but Sana didn’t mind. She just got it._

_Even is more comfortable with Sana from just a few weeks of friendship than he was with any of the boys after years of friendship._

_He didn’t know exactly what to think about that but he...liked this now. This friendship was the only thing that made him smile._

_“You break my heart, Sana.” Even jokes back._

_Sana chews on her popcorn and sticks her tongue out playfully._

_“Alright,” Even clasps his hands together “what's next?”_

_“I brought-”_

_“Good afternoon!” Sana is interrupted by Even’s way too over enthusiastic and way too annoying nurse._

_Even groans unpleasantly and Sana kicks a leg out - giving him a warming look to go along with it._

_‘Be nice’ she mouths._

_Even clears his throat, “Hey, Jackie.”_

_She walks over with a wide smile and shining eyes._

_She’s a little older than most of the nurses here at the hospital. She looks like she should be long retired but loves her job too much to do so. Even knows his feelings are irrational but he hates how much she loves her job. He hates her for willingly coming here every day. Choosing to wake up every morning on the other side of these suffocating walls and walking right through that door and into them._

_And he swears he tries to control his temper with her. But...sometimes he slips up and snaps at her uncontrollably. Glares at her as hard as he can until Sana coughs and kicks him hard enough for him to wince._

_He knows Nurse Jackie is just doing her job. She likes her job. She wants to help people. She likes helping people. But she tries too hard with Even. He doesn’t want to be helped. He can’t be helped. And it’s like no matter how much he tries to tell her that, she has this unshakeable kind of faith in him to get better. It makes his crawl. He just wants her stop._

_“Hello Even,” She smiles over at him - her teeth are crooked and coffee stained but still seems to brighten up any room she’s in. She may not be the best looking on the outside, but her insides are pretty. She’s a kind woman. “Hello Sana. Nice to see you again. What movies are we watching today?”_

_“Romeo + Juliet” Sana rolls her eyes and side eyes Even for a moment “Even forced me. It was horrible and sad. Overrated.”_

_Nurse Jackie laughs as she waddles over to Even’s bedside - she places his food tray down and places her hands on her wide hips. Her hair is knotted and gray and tucked up into a bun. The skin around her mouth is too wrinkled not to notice but Nurse Jackie always seems to be so comfortable in her own skin._

_Even hates that._

_He sinks back into his stacked pillows against the wall and sulks as the woman continue to talk._

_“I’m not sure about that” Nurse Jackie replies, “Sad sure but I’ve always appreciated the poetic beauty of that story. I’ve never seen the movie but the story always stuck with me every since high school.”_

_Even opens his mouth to make some kind of snotty and unneeded comment about how long ago that was and how fucking old she is - just because he can. But Sana’s sharp eyes stop him short. Instead he takes a deep breath and looks away stubbornly._

_“Anyway,” Jackie sighs “Sana, do me a favor while you’re here. I’ve been trying to do it for weeks but...no luck. Maybe you can convince this one” she gentures to Even with a jerk of her thumb “to start eating in the cafeteria and socialize with the other patients. And while you’re at it maybe convince him to talk to his therapist.”_

_With that she turns and mutters something about being too busy to hang out today._

_“I’ll see you later for your medication, Even.”_

_He doesn’t reply as she shuts the door quietly behind her - like she wasn’t expecting one anyway._

_There’s a brief lull in the room while Even takes a few deep breaths. Trying to calm the crawling of his nerves and the clenching of his stomach._

_His hate for Nurse Jackie may be uncalled for but it was very real._

_“You haven’t been talking to your therapist?” Sana asks softly, pulling Even’s eyes to her “I didn’t know that. Why?”_

_Even shrugs. “It’s fucking stupid.”_

_Sana’s eyes turn sad. She blinks back at him slowly with no words. Her eyes run over his face like she’s trying to find something there within his purposely blank expression._

_He squirms a little under her gaze._

_“What?”_

_“Have you ever hoped for anything, Even?”_

_The boy lets out an exasperated sigh and fiddles with the ugly bandages on his arms. He hasn't dared to look under them yet. They’re still healing and they still burn - reminding Even of his pain and failure on a daily basis. His failure to both live and die. What kind of person can’t manage to do either?_

_He shuts his eyes whenever Jackie changes his bandages, coating his healing skin with something gooey and ‘healing’._

_Even knows he’ll never heal from this though._

_“What the fuck are you talking about, Sana?” He continues to stare back vacantly._

_“Hope,” She says again, this time stronger. “Have you ever had hope for something? Anything at all? True hope.”_

_She leans forward as Even’s face scrunches up, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, not sure where she’s going with this._

_“I…” He pauses, thinking._

_He’s sure he has felt hope._

_He remembers having hope when he was a small boy. He dreamed a lot about the future when he was younger. All the things he wanted to do. All the things his mom and dad always told him he could do if he put his mind to it. He believed them. He supposes that was a small version of hope. Blindly believing you’re better than you are. That you’re capable of more, that you can accomplish more than you ever really will be._

_He’s hoped for small things. Silly things like hoping a party he and the boys were going to wouldn't be lame, or for the weather to be nice the next day, or for his brain to finally snap into place - for it to stop fucking with him. Fucking him up._

_He shrugs again, “I don’t know...I mean I guess but not like- not for big things. Not for real things. Everything big I ever hoped for was mostly fake. When I was manic. I thought I could do anything, be anyone. I wanted to be a movie director. I wanted to…” He feels a sharp kind of pain in his chest that he hasn’t felt since he first entered the hospital “I wanted to do something with my life.”_

_“You can still have that, Even.”_

_“No,” He snaps quickly, not even entertaining such a stupid idea. His stare turns into a glare - watching as her eyes fill with even more sadness, as her face drops further, and it makes him mad that she cares so much. That she’s asking him to talk about this, she’s asking him to face this. She was the only one in his life that didn’t ask this of him. She was the only one that didn’t push him. He didn't want that to disappear. “I can’t Sana. That’s the fucking point. I’m crazy. My brain doesn’t work like that.” He laughs humorlessly “Even the fucking meds they’re giving me…they just make me tired and angry and broken. It doesn’t matter what I do or why because it’s always going to be wrong. I’m wrong. Don’t you get that? There’s no reason to have hope when you’re a hopeless person.”_

_Only after Even finishes does he realize there are tears streaming down his face - water catching on his eyelashes and dipping in between his lips. He wipes them roughly and cuts his eyes away from his friend’s. Embarrassment building in his chest. He knows Sana won’t judge him - but it was still humiliating to be so weak. To show someone just how damaged he was. His insides so fractured, rattling around in him like fragments. Unreachable. An unsolvable puzzle._

_For a long time there’s no noise but the quiet buzz that echos steadily around the room._

_“You were given a second chance.” Sana eventually says._

_Even looks over at her - her face looking slightly less sad and a little more determined._

_She leans forward completely now and places her hand on the clenched fist that lays in Even’s lap. He knows she can feel the heat from beneath his skin and the shake of it._

_“What?”_

_“You tried to take your life but you lived. That’s a miracle within itself. You weren’t supposed to die that day. Call it something like fate if you want but you were given a second chance for a reason, Even. I truly believe that. You’re supposed to be here.”_

_Even licks his lips, tasting the saltiness of his own tears, “How do you do that?”_

_“Do what?”_

_“How do manage to have so much faith in such a cruel world?” He clarifies, “Because...it is. The world is so fucking cruel, Sana. And I don’t know what's out there...God or Allah or whatever the fuck people believe in but...whatever it is made me like this then. They made me sick and...and...I fucking hate them for making me this way. I hate them for making me hate myself.”_

_Sana’s hand just squeezes his hand harder as he speaks the words. He feels his fist begin to loosen in her hold._

_“The world can be cruel,” Sana agrees, nodding softly but continuing on “And fear spreads quickly. Hate spreads quickly. Because it’s an easy to feel. They’re easier to accept than things like love and hope and faith. But...if you choose to have faith instead of being afraid. If you choose love over hate - you’ll see that those things spread just as quickly, if not more quickly.” She tilts her head and laughs quietly to herself - a private joke that Even isn’t in on. She reaches her free hand out and touches her hijab fondly. “You know I don’t have to wear this right?” She nods towards the fabric in her hand “It’s not a required thing for all Muslim women to wear a hijab. I choose to wear it because it makes me feel closer to God. I choose to have faith each and every day. I make a conscious choice to wake up and feel the love of Allah and know that even in this cruel world - I am loved. And it’s hard. Trust me. There are some days when I question every single thing I know about my religion. About myself. But I fight for that faith. Because I know that in the end it'll be worth it. It might be blind faith but it’s faith nonetheless.”_

_Even swallows thickly as Sana speaks - overwhelmed with her words. Her words that make him want to hide. Her words that make him want to understand. His words that makes him forget how fucked up he is for a second._

_He looks down to see that his fist has unclenched completely and is now gripping Sana’s hand back a little too tightly. He loosens his hold but doesn’t pull away._

_His body shakes. His mind is spinning._

_He stares at their hands and feels grounded despite the chaos erupting inside of him._

_Maybe he wanted to have faith. Maybe he’s always wanted to._

_Maybe he’s just never known how to begin to get it._

_“You are loved, Even. Trust me, you’re so loved. By so many people. And if we love you then you can learn to love you too.” Sana speaks “Have faith, Even. Let go and take the chance.”_

_Even lifts his tear filled blue eyes to meet Sana’s love filled brown eyes._

_“You just have to have faith.”_

.

.

.

Lea still wasn’t talking. She was barely eating. She kind of just...was.

Isak hated seeing her like this. Her shoulders slumped every morning at the breakfast table, her eyes tired and vacant - staring off into space as she pushed the food around on her plate distractedly.

His sister never usually stayed down for long. When things went to shit at the house - like their mom having a particular bad day, or their dad getting a little too drunk one night and getting angry instead of sleepy - Lea would let herself be sad for a few hours, one day tops, and then the next morning she’d pick herself back up and start all over again.

Isak never understood where she got her strength from. They grew up in the same house, were raised by the same parents (kind of) and yet she was so much stronger than her older brother. She was braver, she was smarter, she was kinder. She wa just built that way.

Isak didn’t recent her for it either. In fact it was the exact opposite. It was this that made him respect her so much. Want to watch out for her, protect her from the demons that lived inside these walls, keep her happy and healthy until she was able to get as far away from this place as possible.

He’ll never forget the day she told him about her one day rule.

“ _Did you get any sleep last night?”_

_“Not a lot.”_

_“I’m sorry dad kept you up all night yelling..”_

_“Why are you apologizing Isak? He was the one that decided to get drunk and yell at you all night long. He’s an asshole.”_

_“Since when do you say asshole?”_

_“That point is...I was sad about it last night. Not being able to get any sleep. So, I can’t be sad about it today.”_

_“Huh?”_

_“Oh, I don’t let myself feel sorry for myself for longer than a day. I give myself time to be sad and sulk in it and then I move on. Simple. You should try it.”_

He never admired his sister more than in that moment.

All Isak ever did was sulk, all he ever did was feel sorry and sad, all he did was suffer.

He has tried to pull himself out a time or two before. Trying to climb his way out of the deep hole he felt trapped in - so small and afraid. But every time he reached up, trying to grab onto something solid and stable, his hand would lose its grip - the dirt and pebbles slipping through his fingers - leaving him pathetically right where he started - at the bottom.

But it’s been a few days since Anita crashed. It wasn’t a loud or violent fall. It was small and subtle - it was as if she tip-toed her way back into insanity, slipping away into the darkness of her mind quietly, without disturbing a thing.

Lea found her after school. She was huddled in a tight ball of limbs in the middle of the kitchen floor.

“ _She was shaking and crying,” Lea told her brother shakily after he rushed home to find her bundled in his bed, crying her own silent tears, “I tried to get her up but then she looked up to me and her eyes were...I just knew she was gone.”_

Isak didn’t say much. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and this time she didn’t roll her eyes and tell him she was fine. She didn’t push him away or lock herself in her room. She let herself be hugged, she burrowed deeper into her brother’s arm and let herself be comforted.

It's been three days and Lea still won’t look Isak in the eye though. She goes to school, comes home, slinks silently to her room, and doesn’t come out until the morning. Isak’s been trying to get her to talk, he asks her questions that require more than a yes or no answer, but still she replies to him with only grunts and nods rather than actual words. And Isak is getting worried. Like, really really worried.

Now, she stands up suddenly from the kitchen table, her eggs barely touched, her eyes filled with sleep. She throws her backpack over her shoulder and grabs the packaged lunch Isak made for her off the table.

She turns without a word, only barely waving when Isak calls after her, “Have a good day!”

He rubs the tingles from his nose and sighs - sitting back heavily.

He hasn’t really had time to focus on his own feeling about everything since his...panic attack as Even calls it. He hasn’t thought about any of it really.

He’s been texting with Even at night but not going to school. He’s been answering Jonas shortly. And it wasn’t because he didn’t want to talk to Jonas - it was because he didn’t want to talk...period.

He wasn’t feeling bad about it because he wasn’t feeling anything.

He wasn’t feeling anything but...the _cravings_. The cravings that were starting to keep him up at night again.

Isak jumps in surprise when he hears an unexpected voice from the archway of the kitchen, “She’s taking this hard, huh?”

Tom stands there - a ratty old checker robe wrapped around him over his sleep boxer shorts and a plain T-shirt. His eyes are dull and sunken in, dark back beneath them - making the skin there puffy and sagged.

He rubs his eyes and shuffles over to the coffee pot.

It takes a moment for Isak to even realize that his father is actually speaking to him.

He can’t actually remember the last time his father addressed him in such a casual manner - no pretending at the dinner table, no fists flying, no accusations or finger pointing.

He briefly wonders if his father is still a little drunk from last night.

Tom, unsurprisingly, didn’t really react to Anita crashing. He came home that night to his wife curled up on the floor and his children huddled together tightly - being each other’s comfort - and he did what he does best. He left. He picked Anita off the floor and tucked her into their bed, before walking right back out the door, and didn’t get back until the sun rose.

Like most of the ugly things in their lives - he pretended that it wasn’t there. He got drunk instead of facing anything.

And if Isak was being honest, it was another reason he was fighting so hard to keep his promise.

Just the thought of him being anything like his father made his skin crawl.

“Huh?” Isak says dumbly.

“Your sister” Tom explains “She’s not taking your mom’s... _circumstances_ very well.”

Isak doesn’t know how to begin to reply to that. Of course she’s not fucking taking it well. How the fuck would she take it?

His father pours his coffee shakily into his mug, coffee splashing and spilling onto the counter, his voice gruff and sleep heavy as he speaks, “Poor girl. A real shame she has to get used to this so late. I thought she would be by now. I guess she was too young when it all started.”

He turns, leaning back against the counter, sipping his coffee loudly.

Isak can’t stand the sight of him. The whites of his eyes are stained yellow and his lips are so chapped that they bleed.

_She shouldn’t fucking have to get used to it you piece of shit._

When Isak’s eyes catch the time blinking on the stove behind Tom his brows furrow.

“Why aren’t you at work?”

Tom lets out a snort, eyes rolling, “I decided to take the fucking day off. Why do you care? It’s not like you pay any bills around here.”

Isak looks away.

“And don’t think I haven’t noticed you staying home from school. Your attendance is already shit Isak. Don’t fuck it up because you feel like you have to be here for your Mamma or your sister.”

“I’m-”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Tom’s voice rises, standing up straight, his posture growing tense.

Isak feels himself shrink away on instinct. He always feels so small when Tom’s voice begins to tint with that edge. The edge that tells Isak it’s time to shut up. It’s time to run and hide and pretend he’s somewhere far, far away from here.

The edge that usually sends Isak falling off - hitting the bottom violently.

“I’m her fucking husband and Lea’s fucking father you hear me?” He snaps “I don’t need you to be pretending you're something that you’re not.”

Isak’s eyes move - meeting his father’s across the room. They’re sharp and angry and make Isak’s stomach clench with fear. He balls his shaking hands into tight fists by his side and clenches his teeth - stealing himself for the worst.

“You’re not some kind of hero Isak,” Tom continues - spit flying from his lips. He slams his mug down and Isak jumps - hating himself for this reaction. “You’re nothing here. You have no place to be sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. She’s _my wife_. She doesn’t need any fucking help, okay? I can help her. So stay in your place, boy.”

Isak just nods - not trusting his voice to work for him. He closes his eyes and pictures blue. Wanting nothing more in this moment than to reach for his phone and call the boy who has been running through his mind for days. The boy who makes it easier for him to breathe.

He hears his father move closer and his muscles tighten as he readies himself for what usually comes next - the initial blow is always the worst. Tom’s fist connecting to Isak’s body. Bones meeting soft flesh or hard edges. Leaving marks so sore and ugly.

But this time it doesn’t come.

There is a long pause that causes Isak to look up and meet his father’s eyes once more as he looms darkly over his son. Looking much bigger, so much taller and more dangerous than he actually is.

Isak holds his breath as the words leave Tom’s mouth.

Something much worse than a punch to the gut or a slap across his face.

Something Isak has know for years now but has been too afraid to admit.

Something he’s buried inside of himself - even further than his darkness, further than this sickness.

“This is all your fault,” He says thickly, voice laced with pure hate, pure violence, pure truth, “You know that right?”

His eyes lock in place firmly - making sure Isak knows what he means.

Not just his mom.

But this family. Tom’s drinking, Lea’s pain, the secrets hidden behind dark eyes and in between lips - it’s all Isak’s fault.

And everyone knows it.

He moves to grip the edge of the table, to stop the shaking of his fingers, to ground himself - feeling like the ground is going to disappear completely - open him up and swallow him whole.

With that - Tom turns - walking away from his shaking son. He calls over his shoulder, “And if you’re going to stay home from school today at least clean the goddamn kitchen.” So easy and simple - like nothing happened at all. Like his words didn't tear Isak in half.

As soon as he hears Tom slam the bedroom door he reaches for his phone - his hands shake uncontrollably, his throat beginning to tighten, the rooms seeming to close in around him. He drops the phone several times before he manages to get it open.

On instinct he scrolls to the first name he knows will help make this go away. Short term relief. These feelings of doubt and hurt and guilt eating him from the inside out.

**Chris**

But even through the turmoil in his mind, everything blurry and scrambled - a complete disarray - he knows that he scrolled to the wrong name.

Something inside of him tells him how wrong he is about it.

So he listens - scrolling a little further down until he reaches the name that feels right.

**Even**

He hits call - having faith that what he'll find on the other end will help him escape this house, this feeling, just the same.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Feelings? Let me know! I love, love, love feedback and conversations :D
> 
> You guys leave the best comments and they always make me smile.
> 
> More Even + Isak next chapter!


	17. Feel Like Going For a Ride?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like all I do in author notes is apologize to you guys...but here it goes again. I'm sorry for the delay on this update. It's still been hard to rewrite all the work I lost and putting that on top of work and school can just be difficult at times. 
> 
> But the comments you guys left on last chapter were so wonderful. I really can't thank you enough for your patience and understanding and love <3\. 
> 
> Also, a HUGE thank you and shout out to a lovely reader who took the time to reach out to me and offer to help me with my horrible editing skills. She's awesome :) Thank you so much Jenn! 
> 
> However, if I still managed to miss something, miss one of her changes or forgot to fix something. I apologize. Again.
> 
> Anyway, see you at the bottom! Enjoy!
> 
> .
> 
> I almost forgot! Please continue to ignore my horrible Americanization in terms of the school scenes and things like that. I'm sorry!

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

_"Maybe the journey isn't so much about becoming anything. Maybe it's about unbecoming everything that isn't really you."_

_......_

 

**A Few Months Ago**

_Lately, Jonas can’t help but wonder if he’s always been this much of a shitty friend._

_Because he has. He’s been a really shitty fucking friend. And he doesn’t know how it happened or where it started. He doesn’t know how he missed this because now that he sees it - it's screaming at him - so loudly and undeniable. Loud and demanding. Loud and terrifying._

_Now that he sees it he can’t see anything else._

_He sees it in the tremble of Isak’s hands which is becoming more and more noticeable, more and more prominent with each passing day. Jonas can see it now in every sniff, twitch and itch of his nose._

_He can see it in the dark, hungry way Isak eyes the white powder that appears on chaotic Saturday nights._

_But the thought that scares Jonas the most, the thought that makes his insides turn and his stomach roll with sickness, the thought that hurts the very most, is that maybe Jonas has noticed before now. Maybe he’s noticed and just hasn’t wanted to acknowledge it. He hasn’t wanted to face his failures as a friend._

_It's the most bitter kind of irony that Jonas has ever experienced really. All he’s ever wanted to do is protect Isak. Ever since the first time in the park - where he saw the smaller boy - eyes so lost and lonely and sad - he’s had this natural instinct. An automatic urge to befriend the boy and protect him when he could._

_And he’s failed at that. He’s failed badly._

_However, if he has noticed Isak’s behavior, he hasn’t noticed just how bad Isak has gotten, how far gone he already is._

_But he can see it now._

_He can see it, he can hear it in the desperate broken whispers his friend utters in the still darkness of Jonas’ bedroom._

_It’s progressed over the past few months. His words have gotten more frantic, his eyes have gotten more dangerous, his actions have gotten more reckless._

_It used to be a simple question, “Hey, Jonas. Can you call your connect? Let’s have some fun tonight.”_

_That was back when Isak was only snorting one or two lines a night._

_But it grew from there. The words becoming desperate, the need more clear and obvious._

_“You think you can get some stuff for Sunday too? I won’t do enough to fuck with school Monday.”_

_“Come on, man,” he would scoff on a Tuesday. “When did you become such a little bitch? I’ll pass the exam tomorrow. I just want to have some fun tonight.”_

_“I really need this today, Jonas,” his friend would ask on a Wednesday, voice quivering. “I just need this release, dude.”_

_“Please, fucking please,” he would whisper on a Thursday, a secret shared among friends, hidden in the hallways at school or the tram ride to school or the safety of Jonas’ bedroom. “Please just call him and ask him to make an exception. I’ll get the money from my dad tomorrow, okay? I just need it now.”_

_Jonas was good at making excuses. He was good at dodging Isak’s calls and frenzied texts asking for more. He told Isak that his dealer was running low on product and couldn’t sell to him as much - just spot him some weed now and again. Jonas figured this would be a good way to nip it in the bud. Make Isak see how bad this was getting without having to actually confront it. Confront Isak and himself and how shitty they both have been._

_What he didn’t expect was Isak finding his own connect. Isak wanting, him needing this so much that he found his own way to get it. He probably should have seen it coming. Or maybe he did but he’s been getting so fucking good at pretending, taking a few pages from Isak’s personal notebook._

_Now, he’s sat across from his best friend in the cafeteria. Magnus is rambling on about how badly he needs to get laid for the first time and how he’s never going to find the right girl and the right place, Mahdi is beside him encouraging him to just do what feels right._

_And then there’s Isak._

_His eyes are wide and his pupils are too dilated. The kind of dilated that comes only from the rush and pleasure and bliss that he knows is running through the blonde’s veins right now. The kind of dilated that comes from a tiny carefully tucked away bag, filled with the sweetest powder he’s ever tasted, and the best rush he’s ever felt._

_It’s Monday though. And the boys don’t party on Monday._

_But Isak does._

_Jonas has noticed his hand disappearing below his desk in English class, before he brings his finger to his lips, subtlety spreading the drug across his tongue and gums. Jonas has noticed the pills Isak “hid” inside of his locker and how he stopped there every day before lunch to pick his favorite color and shape of the day before slipping the pill slyly beneath his tongue. He was pretty slick about it and Jonas knows that if he was anyone else, if he wasn't watching his friend with careful and worried eyes, that he might not see it._

_Isak’s eyes flick around the room distractedly, the conversation around him completely flying over his head as he doesn’t catch a word. They’re wide and blank and deep purple bags run beneath them. Isak’s never had an easy time with sleep but he’s never not slept for this long. Jonas knows it’s been at least four days now. He fidgets and squirms like he wants to run - something Jonas has learned his friend is very good at. Something he’s been good at doing for as long as he’s known him. He’s good at running, good at avoiding questions and real conversations. He’s good at blocking people out and pretending that it’s okay to do that. Sometimes Jonas just wants to shake him, shake him and scream as loud as he can, “Let me help you! Please, just let me help you!”_

_But he never does._

_Isak’s legs bounce restlessly beneath the table and his fingers tap uneven patterns on the tabletop - making Jonas feel nervous, on edge._

_“Isak, dude,” Mahdi suddenly speaks. Isak’s head snaps up at the sound of his name, neither he nor Jonas had noticed that Magnus has stopped talking. “You okay? You look like shit. You not sleeping again?”_

_Mahdi and Magnus didn’t know as much as Jonas did but that wasn’t their fault. Isak kept them locked out of his life. They were good friends really. As good as they could be with how little Isak gave them to work with. Mahdi always caught Jonas’ eye in the hallway whenever Isak was acting extra jittery one day. He would raise his eyebrows when he spotted a stray bruise across Isak’s skin, silently questioning everything._

_Jonas always replied the same, “I’m taking care of it, man. No worries.”_

_Magnus was a little less observant but just as caring._

_Isak stares back blankly at his friend for one beat too long. Jonas almost jumps in, thinking Isak has spaced out too far this time - looking past Mahdi instead of at him._

_But then Isak replies, rushed and too quickly, “No, no, no I’m cool, man. Just got this test next period I’m worried about. In fact...I’m gonna head to the library, okay? Get a few more minutes of studying in before the bell.”_

_Isak gathers his belongings with shaking hands and uneven breath. His eyes continue to move, not stopping, not landing on anything or anyone long enough to see. His face seems to grow paler under the harsh fluorescent lights._

_“Oh, okay…” Mahdi trails off, his face clouding with confusion._

_And then Isak walks off without another word or glance._

_Jonas feels dread begin to build inside of his mind. He feels fear begin to pool at the center of his chest._

_He and Isak have the same class next period and he knows that they don’t have any tests. It’s an art class._

_“Is he okay?” Magnus asks - mouth full of food and mind full of ignorance. “Seems a little wound up.”_

_“That’s an understatement,” Mahdi adds, shaking his head and sipping his soda._

_Jonas watches with worried eyes as Isak exits the cafeteria._

_He doesn’t even notice how Penetrator Chris watches Isak the same - but with a different look in his eyes._

.

.

.

** Present Day **

Jonas was frustrated. He was fucking angry. He felt everything boiling beneath his skin and spreading through his veins. He hated it. He hated it so fucking much. He hated that he wasn’t enough. He hated that he couldn’t handle this.

More than anything though - Jonas was hurt. His heart hurt for his friend. His heart hurt for himself.

He sits on his bed, back against the wall, frustrated and alone.

He’s sent a million texts to Even now and he’s received nothing but short answers and vague bullshit. But apparently Isak was okay and he was with Even. But Isak was ignoring Jonas’ texts completely. Nothing. Not even a quick - _I’m okay. No worries. Thanks for being so concerned bro._

Nothing.

And it hurt.

Jonas wasn’t jealous of Even necessarily. He actually liked Even. He was a decent dude. He was funny and easily fell in with him and boys. He made Isak smile. Like genuinely and truly smile. When they were hanging out in the schoolyard or chilling in the cafeteria - Isak smiled up at Even with sparkling eyes and a genuine laugh. He talked and actually paid attention. His eyes didn’t twitch impatiently looking for some way to escape, there were no sniffs or scratches, there was no restlessness or anger or fake mean words. He wasn’t just killing time until he could get his next fix.

Whenever Even was around Jonas could see a glimpse of the Isak that he met all those years ago. Just a boy with innocent but sad eyes. A boy with a twisted mind and a broken heart. A boy who looked at Jonas like he was everything, like he was so thankful to finally have a friend.

He knew that Isak was still in there. He just didn’t know how to get him back. He felt so helpless - like he was drowning and there was no one around to throw him a buoy. Mahdi and Magnus tried their best. He’d spoken to them a little about it. He hadn’t gone deep or gotten too personal about Isak’s home life, which Jonas himself wasn’t one hundred percent sure about either. But they weren’t as invested as Jonas. They loved Isak, sure, but not like Jonas did.

Jonas knew that Isak had been hurt - probably in too many ways to count, probably way deeper and more severe than he could imagine. So, he’d let a lot of things slide. He knew it was stupid. He knew it was foolish to think that he could let Isak try to numb his pain and keep it under control. He’d been a fool to think he could watch over his best friend and keep him in check. It was okay if Isak partied, as long as Jonas was there to watch over him and make sure he was safe. He’d been stupid to think he could control any of it.

It’d started small, gradually. Jonas had been his connect to the drugs, so it was okay. If Jonas felt like Isak was going too hard one weekend, he would tell Isak that his dealer was running low and would catch them next weekend.

That’s when Jonas realized how badly he’d fucked up.

He’d heard the whispers in the hall and locker rooms. The rumors that he hoped to God weren’t facts. The fucking Penetrators and their parties, their drugs, their chaos.

He didn’t know how Isak fell in with them or how it all started.

But the whispers and rumors only grew louder to Jonas --

_You know Isak Valtersen? He was at Chris’ party the other night. Totally fucked some chick right in the kitchen in front of like fifteen of us. Epic._

_Bro, Isak was so fucked up at the party last night. Surprised he’s even in school today. I saw him snort coke off of Lena’s ass._

_Hey Chris! I saw Valtersen puke all over your fucking couch last night. I bet that was fun to clean up._

_Yo, you hear the rumors that Valtersen likes dick? Sick, man. Doubt it’s true though. Gotta admit the boy got game. You hear that that prude bitch Emma let him fuck her finally?_

Every word made Jonas burn even more. He didn’t know exactly what he burned with - anger, frustration, hurt, helplessness? Some combination of all of them?

He’d questioned Isak about the parties all the time but all he ever got in return was lies. He knew they were lies. He saw every single lie in the way Isak’s eyes began to sink in, in the weight he began to lose too quickly, in the way he never looked him in the eye anymore.

And with a heavy heart, that's when Jonas knew what he was most upset about. He was a failure. He was a failure as a friend.

He knew Isak’s home life was shit. He knew his dad hurt him and there was something wrong with his mom. Something Isak didn’t like to talk about. And Jonas knew there was much more to the story than he even knew. Jonas hadn’t pushed for more. He hadn’t asked questions or forced Isak to tell him anything he didn’t want to. He ignorantly hoped that one day Isak would feel comfortable enough to tell him, feel safe enough to know Jonas would never do anything to hurt him. He just wanted to help. He just wanted to be there.

That day never came because Isak found something else. He found something simple and easy and bitter. He found the kind of high he had been searching for. He found an escape much easier than facing the truth. He’d found something he trusted more than Jonas.

But then Even came along and Jonas saw a new opportunity. It was his last chance. He had to try _something_.

So, when he saw those smiles that Isak gave Even, when saw how easy it was for Isak to be around Even, he knew this was his shot.

He knows it was wrong to ask Even to essentially spy on his best friend. Knows it’s wrong now to continue doing so. But he was desperate and hopeless and at a loss.

He’s hit a dead end.

But he couldn’t just sit on his ass and watch Isak slowly kill himself the way he was.

His last option that would keep Isak in his life, possibly healthy and safe, was Even Bech Naesheim. Because his other option made his heart splinter inside of his chest. He felt the pain radiate through his body at just the thought. If Isak didn’t get better, if Isak didn’t accept his help, if Isak didn’t start to face this...Jonas would have to leave. It would break his heart. It would break _him_.

But he couldn’t live like this anymore.

He loved Isak. He would jump in front of a bullet for that fucking boy. Because he knew the real him. The Isak that wasn't fake and fucked up and an addict. He knew the Isak who laughed at his stupid jokes and loved to watch him skate. He knew the Isak who snort-laughed when he smoked too much weed. He knew the Isak that blushed whenever Jonas’ mom complimented him. He knew the Isak that used to be fascinated with biology and psychology and the human mind. He knew the Isak that had hopes and dreams even through whatever kind of demons lived inside of his brain and the sadness that plagued his life.

He couldn’t sit here and watch that Isak die. He couldn’t watch Isak destroy himself. Because it was killing him too. He opened his door to Isak and offered him safety and love but then Isak would disappear and ghost him for days. And Jonas would drive himself crazy, become sick with worry, thoughts flying through his mind without his permission. Thoughts of Isak laying dead somewhere in an alley, doing too much too fast one night and never coming back.

If Isak wasn’t going to stop - Jonas would have to. He couldn’t enable him like that anymore.

And it killed him.

There’s a soft rap on his door and he sighs - tucking his phone away quickly and calling out quietly, “Come in.”

His mom peeks her head in with a subtle smile and wide eyes and a smudge of chocolate cake mix across her cheek.

Jonas can’t help but smile back, “Hey Mamma.”

“Hi honey,” she greets as she steps into the room fully. Her soft brown curls are pinned up loosely and she wears the apron she always wears when she bakes - one of her favorite activities. “I just wanted to know what you wanted for dinner. I already started baking the cake. I figured we could sneak a piece before we eat anyway.”

Jonas laughs.

He’s so thankful he has a mom like his. Soft and understand and the absolute best at listening, trying to understand, and of course...baking.

“I can see that,” he replies, gesturing to the mess on her cheek.

She raises her thick eyebrows and reaches up to touch the messy goop there. She laughs loudly and her eyes sparkle. She wipes it off and licks the batter off of her fingers.

She sighs, her words are meant to be casual but they make Jonas’ stomach sink, “Where’s Isak? I haven’t seen him around in awhile. I’m starting to miss that boy.”

Jonas shifts his eyes away from her. Swallows the lump in his throat down.

“Jonas?”

The bed dips at the edge as his mother sits down. She reaches out and places a small hand on her son’s knee - she squeezes. Jonas isn’t comforted.

“He uh…” Jonas clears his throat, at a complete loss for any kind of words. “Honestly, I don’t know where he is actually. Or what he’s doing.”

His eyes stay focused on the fading color of his jeans and his face begins to tingle as the tears begin to build. Because he misses his best friend too. He misses him so fucking much that it hurts. And he knows Isak is dying. He’s dying and Jonas can’t do a single thing about it, it seems.

“What do you mean?” Julie asks, her hand still squeezing her son’s knee in an attempt to comfort him. “Is something wrong? Is he okay?”

A bitter laugh falls from Jonas’ lips, the tears begin to gather beneath his eyes. He’s not good at pretending like Isak. He can’t push everything away. He can’t act like everything is okay even when his insides burn. He can’t escape this.

“No,” he whispers through his small cries, he feels the water begin to fall - the hurt touching his lips. “No, he’s not okay.”

When Jonas lifts his eyes back to his mother’s - he knows she understands. She knows even less than Jonas does when it comes to Isak’s pain and home life but she knows enough to know that it's not okay. It’s never been okay. Her heart has always ached for the small, lonely boy her son brought home one day.

He smiled widely and announced that even though they just met, Isak was his new best friend.

“Oh honey,” Julie breaths out, not hesitating to move forward and envelope her son in the warmth and comfort of his arms.

He clings to her like he used to when he was a little boy and he had woken up from a bad dream - scared and desperate.

He clings to her tightly and she clings back.

He cries into her shoulder - he cries for himself, he cries for Isak, and shakes as he listens to his mother’s tentative whispers.

“It’s okay, baby. We’ll figure something out. We will. We will.”

Jonas doesn’t know if he believes her, but for right now he lets himself be comforted by her sure sounding words.

Jonas wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

.

.

.

Isak doesn’t remember the last time he felt so comfortable in his own skin. He’s not sure there really ever was a time.

He was never really himself.

He fakes most of himself. Creating and shaping all the pieces that he was made up of. He curved the edges and trimmed the strings where he needed to. He pretended to be whatever he needed to be in the moment.

He was a small and quiet, unproblematic son; he was a strong and protective older brother; he was a normal teenage boy who liked to smoke weed and fuck girls; he was a happy best friend.

He was someone hidden away from everyone. Even himself.

But here, in the comfort and ease of Even’s apartment it was different. It was good.

Isak was himself here - whatever that meant. Because maybe Isak didn’t exactly know who he was yet. Maybe he’s been fake for so long he didn’t know where to begin.

He still had a hard time wrapping his mind around that, had a hard time even knowing who the real him was, just dipping his toes into this uncharted territory - but it still it felt good. He felt better here. He felt like all the screws, nuts and bolts holding his unsteady frame together began to tighten whenever he walked through the door. He felt the walls around him begin the shift and the unrelenting cravings inside of his body begin to calm.

Even didn’t do anything special per se. He just was. Isak was calmed by the sound of his voice, intrigued by his excited words and crazy ideas. Isak liked watching him sketch as they sat in a comfortable silence.

It’s been a few days since Isak made the choice to call him - to ignore Chris’ call, ignore every single cell in his body calling out for something to take everything away.

He ran here - heart pounding and head spinning. He ran until his legs ached and his chest heaved and the tears on his cheeks were dried by the cold wind.

He let himself be weak in a different way. He didn’t give in to the escape. He didn’t let himself get lost in a world of madness. But he did get lost. He fell carelessly into Even’s hard chest as soon as the door opened. He breathed in his scent and let himself give in to other kinds of weaknesses. The weaknesses that were imbedded so deep inside of him. Weaknesses that made him notice how good Even smelled and how soft his lips felt against his ear as he whispered words of comfort and reassurance. The sickness that made him push himself closer to the older boy, let himself be pulled into his apartment and his embrace, and let his tears fall freely.

He remembers how Even held him as he shook pathetically, with his fingers curled so tightly into Even’s shirt that they burned.

He remembers feeling so protected. It was a new feeling. Something so foreign that it took Isak off guard - made him want to cower and run. Made him want to shut himself off to it. But Even didn’t let him. He held him so tightly. He held him as long as he needed to. He held Isak like he was the most precious thing that he had ever touched.

Since then, Isak has busied himself with everything that was Even. He worried that Even would eventually grow sick of him and his problems and unnecessary baggage. He would eventually see Isak for what he was - nothing special. Nothing worth wasting his time on.

But until then, Isak was going to do what he always did, be selfish. He was going to enjoy this while he could. Having a friend. Feeling safe and protected in a way that he never had before.

Now, Even stands in the kitchen only a few steps away from where Isak is seated on the couch - watching the older boy move with ease and grace as he cooks. Isak doesn’t know what he’s making but it already smells amazing.

And this is another thing that Isak has had to get used to. Home cooked meals and dinner every night. Healthy things like vegetables and fruits.

Even loved to cook. He said it was a sort of therapy for him. He loved the calmness and sureness of it. He said it soothed him. Isak didn’t quite understand but it made him smile anyway.

Isak lets his eyes follow the older boy. He’s comfortable in front of Isak - wearing a baggy pair of black sweatpants and a white shirt - scars very much visible and present. His hair is wet and pushed back from his shower and his lashes are still water soaked.

Isak tries not to think about how beautiful he is. He tries not to think about how they’ve kissed in the exact spot that Even is standing in now. How it was the best kiss of Isak’s life. How it set his skin on fire and made his insides burst like fireworks.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he sighs. He already knows who it is and what they want.

Chris has been getting more and more persistent and aggressive with his attempts to reach Isak.

His texts were getting nastier - feeling like a punch to the gut every time Isak read them over. He received at least two a day and each one was worse than the last.

 **Chris** : _You flaking on me, party boy?_

 **Chris** : _This is bullshit. After everything I’ve done for you. How much free blow have you sniffed thanks to me? All you have to do is suck the guy’s dick. Not that hard. I’d do it but my mouth isn’t as pretty as yours apparently._

 **Chris** : _Come on, party boy. We both know how much you love cock._

 **Chris** : _fucK you IISJDKF_

 **Chris** : _Shit I’m druhmk_

 **Chris** : _You won’t answer me now but I bet you swallowed that pretty little pill I gave you the other day_

 **Chris** : _Face it, Isak. You’re a faggot and a junkie and a liar. Everything would be so much easier if you admitted it._

 **Chris** : _Call me when you accept that._

 **Chris** : _I’ll always have what you need, party boy._

Isak is used to this kind of thing. Hurtful words and hateful truths. He took it all the time. His father was the master of words coated with ice and hate.

Isak usually accepted it with ease. He would close his eyes and let the pain radiate through his bones. He would let the hurt soak through his skin. He wouldn’t cry. He would hide, he would fuck, he would sniff white until he couldn’t remember where he was or why he hated himself so much.

Now, he doesn’t exactly have anywhere to run.

Even’s gaze pins him. His soft, cotton candy blue eyes so full of attentiveness and understanding. Isak barely gave him anything back. He was empty. He didn’t have anything to give him. Yet, Even stayed. He sat with Isak and watched movies and cooked him food and remained open. He showed Isak his sketches (Mr. Jojo the crooked cat wasn’t the only animal Even had painted or sketched it seems. He also had Tony the unproportioned giraffe, Erik the wide set gorilla, and Britt the oddly colored snake). Even filled the silences that Isak was too scared to fill. He told him stories about his childhood and how his love for film started. He told him about how he once broke into his old high school just because he wanted to see if he could. He told him about how he met Sana and how thankful he is for her. And Isak listened. He listened and smiled and felt his heart grow bigger with each one of his steady heartbeats.

Isak still craves his escape, still has a nag in his brain and an itch in his throat, but Even is the sweetest kind of distraction - whether Even knows it or not.

Isak is pulled from his thoughts when he suddenly sees Even’s bare feet in his line of sight.

He looks up and finds Even looking back - signature smile in place and a light flush coloring his cheeks.

“Dinner should be done in twenty minutes or so.”

Isak smiles back, “Smells good.”

“Meatloaf and veggies. You’re going to love it.”

Isak likes Even’s confidence in himself, even in the simplest of actions. He knew he could do it. He knew he was strong enough, capable enough, determined enough.

Isak doesn’t know what that feels like.

He licks his lips and smiles a little wider, “I haven’t been disappointed yet.”

Isak’s phone pings again.

“You’re a pretty popular guy, huh?” Even says offhand as he takes a seat next to the small blonde huddled on his sofa.

“What?”

“Your phone,” Even answers - reaching across to the coffee table and grabbing the newly rolled joint that lays there. “It’s always blowing up when you’re here.”

He flicks his favorite red lighter and places the joint between his lips.

Isak stares for a moment. He loves the roundness of the other boy’s lips. He loves their plumpness and how they arch where Isak’s curves and causes them to fit perfectly together - like two missing pieces of a puzzle.

Smoke fills the air and touches Isak’s tongue and makes his stomach settle in comfort.

“It’s just Chris.” Isak answers truthfully, just because Even seems to bring that out in him.

“Chris Schistad?” Even raises his eyebrows, passing the joint to Isak without having to ask, because of course he knew Isak would accept. “Penetrator Chris?”

Isak’s fingertips brush Even’s and his eyes flutter.

“Mhm.” He nods - bringing the smoke to his own lips. He inhales.

“You two close or something?” Even questions.

He leans his head back lazily on the cushions behind him. His voice is light and casual but tinted with an obvious kind of curiosity.

Isak knows that Even has been patient. He gives and talks and tells and waits for Isak to return the favor, but he never does. Sometimes he feels like he can. Sometimes when the sun begins to set and the apartment is lit with soft soothing colors of orange and pink, when Even is quiet and thoughtful and lost in one of his paintings, when Isak feels warm and trusting. When the tug in his chest isn’t so strong and the itch of his nose stops. Sometimes he feels like opening up and telling the older boy things. He feels like he can tell him just how scared he is. Just how lost and lonely and broken. Maybe Even would understand, maybe he would smile sadly and reach out to touch Isak’s heated skin, maybe he would tell the younger boy that he understands because he’s broken too.

But the other thoughts stop him every single time. The thoughts that scream just a little louder. The thoughts that tell him it's a mistake to open up. The thoughts that remind him that everyone he’s ever fully trusted has broken that trust, has broken _him_ and left him scattered in pieces on the cold hard ground. The thoughts that beg and plead for him to stay silent, to protect himself, to run and hide and escape. The thoughts that tell him Even won’t understand, no one will ever understand just how deep his sickness and sadness runs.

Sometimes he wonders exactly what Even does get out of this friendship. But most of the time he is too afraid to ask.

“Not really,” Isak shrugs - releasing the smoke built up in his lungs. “Just casual friends I guess. His parties are fun sometimes.”

Isak’s eyes meet Even’s.

“Oh, yeah?” Even’s voice rises just slightly. “I heard they get pretty crazy. Are the rumors true?”

Isak freezes - his hand hanging in the air, halfway to his mouth.

Even’s eyes are wide but knowing - almost as if he already knows the answer to the question. Like he knows something Isak doesn’t - a secret he’s not in on.

It makes Isak’s stomach drop heavily.

Isak clears his throat, trying to keep his face blank, he brings the smoke back to his lips - “What rumors?”

Even tilts his head as best he can from the awkward position he’s in. “Oh come on,” He tells him with a hint of exasperation lacing his words. “You know. The sex, the drugs, everyone’s heard but only some have seen from what I’ve been told.”

Isak blinks, passing the blunt back to Even, blinks again.

“I guess.” He shrugs again - moving his eyes away from blue as the lies fall from his lips. “I guess they’re not really any different from other high school house parties. Drugs and sex kind of just follows.”

He hates himself.

He hates that this is what he has to do. That even here in this safe space where his walls shift and his mind settles and his fakeness lessens - he has to hide and lie and pretend.

Even is honest and sincere and wears his heart on his sleeve. He shows Isak the worst and best parts of himself every time he speaks and doesn’t hide either. He’s unashamed and beautiful in his honesty.

Isak is a coward.

And he can’t help but feel like he’s betraying Even in some way every time a lie falls from his lips - big or small, white or gray. It didn’t matter.

It makes his stomach turn and knot.

“Oh, okay.” Even drops the subject that quickly.

He always does.

Chris’ words ring loudly in his mind - _faggot, junkie, liar._

It’s hard to face the truth.

.

.

.

It’s a little awkward.

Everyone can feel it lingering in the air around the lunch table. Well, everyone but Magnus of course who continues to babble on about, you guessed it, getting laid - which still has not happened yet.

It’s awkward because Isak has been ignoring Jonas. He knows it’s shit, he knows that he’s shit, but he hasn’t been ready to face him yet. He hasn’t wanted to. He knows what Jonas will do. He’ll ask questions and look at Isak with those eyes - hard and unforgiving. He won’t wrap him in his arms anymore, he won’t invite him into the safe space of his bedroom. He’s finally doing what he should have done from the beginning. He’s seeing Isak for what he really is.

_Faggot._

_Junkie._

_Liar._

Isak stares down at the colorless disgusting looking food on his lunch tray - pushing it around mindlessly as he tries to ignore everything real and right in front of him. Denial comes so easy to him.

Even sits quietly next to him and takes small bites of his apple.

Isak can feel Jonas’ eyes on him and he feels so small under the stare.

“How do you do it, Isak?” Magnus’ voice pulls Isak back into the conversation.

He lifts his head to find an eager looking Magnus and an amused looking Mahdi.

“Hmm?” Isak wasn’t paying attention.

Magnus huffs, blonde strands of grease slicked hair falling forward into his eyes.

“You never fucking listen.” He rolls his eyes, “I said how do you do it? Manage to get girls like you do?”

Isak blinks slowly at his friend.

“Oh, man,” Mahdi laughs. “Remember that time he got Emma to make out with him in front of everyone? Told her some aspirin he had was ecstasy.”

Magnus joins in on the laughter, oblivious to the rising blush of frustration on Isak’s cheeks and the uncomfortable look in his eyes and the scrunch of his brow, the grinding of his teeth.

He doesn’t want to do this today. He doesn’t know if he has the strength to do this.

“That was sick!” Magnus slaps the table loudly, “Remember when he got Sara to go down on him in the boys bathroom? Or when he got Kristina to fuck him on the back patio at Eva’s end of first year house party!”

Isak can feel Even stiffen beside him and he doesn’t dare turn to see the expression that’s on his face. His eyes flick to Jonas for a moment. His friend’s eyes are just as hard as he expected, only they weren’t on him, the glare was directed at Even.

Isak frowns with his confusion.

“So Isak?” Mahdi continues, “How do you do it?”

Isak swallows thickly.

He usually feels anger when he’s forced to pretend this way. Forced to see just how different he is from the people he calls his friends. See how far away he is from anything resembling normalcy. He grits his teeth through his rage and laughs and pokes fun and blends in.

But for some reason he doesn’t feel angry today. He feels...defeated.

He feels so lost and exposed outside of the safety he’s created for himself in Even’s home. He feels like he’s floundering out here in the real world. Now that Even has peeled some of Isak’s layers back, peeking just slightly beneath, glancing over the tall walls Isak has build for himself over years - he doesn’t know how to go back. He doesn’t know how to keep these walls up without the cracks beginning to grow in the concrete.

His eyes move to Even, almost on instinct, almost too naturally now. And Even’s eyes are on him - deep and questioning and expecting.

He doesn’t have any real answers for him.

Isak’s eyes shift again.

He stills plays a part, but some truth slips between the cracks in his armor.

“I don’t know...you…” Isak licks his lips, shrugs, and tries to calm his breathing. “You just...you have to make them feel important,” Isak tells them, hating himself more with each word he speaks, each truth that spills. His eyes lock on Even’s again. The stare burns but also calms. There’s both a lightness and a storm of blue settled there. “Everyone wants to feel like someone cares, even if it’s only for a little while. Even if deep down they know it isn’t real.”

A heavy silence hangs in the air after Isak finishes. His eyes immediately drop from Even’s and focus on his food again and his stomach tingles unpleasantly.

He hears Jonas let out an annoyed snort from across the table and his eyes fall shut.

He wants to apologize, tell Jonas how much he cares, how truly sorry he is. That he knows he’s a shitty friend and a pathetic excuse for a person but he swears that he’s kept his promise.

But he’s quiet.

And it’s Magnus that breaks the silence obnoxiously.

“Seriously? That’s it? That’s all you’re going to give me? Make them feel important!?! I need more than that Isak! I need step by step instructions. I need moves!”

Isak suddenly feels Even’s hand on his knee beneath the table. He didn’t even know he was shaking until the hand makes his knee stop. He swallows hard and counts with the up and down movement of his chest just like Even taught him.

“Sorry Mags,” Isak’s voice is barely a whisper. “I don’t have anything for you.”

_He didn’t have anything for anybody._

.

.

.

“Feel like going for a ride?”

Isak turns away from shoving his books messily into his locker to see Even. He leans casually against the lockers and smiles fondly down at him. His jean jacket is very much in place and lately Isak finds himself less annoyed by it and more comforted.

“Uhm, where?” Isak questions, stuffing the rest of his shit away hastily. A book or two falls to the floor and Even laughs as Isak’s neck turns hot.

“Somewhere, anywhere,” Even answers as he reaches down and picks up the fallen school books, extending his arm to Isak as he stands straight. “Let’s skip the rest of school and just go.”

_Just go._

That sounded good to Isak.

That always sounded good.

So, they go.

.

.

.

There is the same kind of steady quietness in the car that usually lingers in Even’s apartment too. Peaceful. Full of easiness and no expectations.

The windows are cracked and the wind is rushing and cold and makes Isak feel like he can finally breathe for the very first time today.

After at least twenty minutes of driving however, Isak can’t hold his question in any longer - “Seriously,” he chuckles. “Where are we going?”

Even smiles but doesn’t turn to look over at the boy beside him.

“I know a place,” he says. “A place I go when things get too much. When I just need to relax and regroup. Somewhere I can just be alone. Just be me.”

Isak pauses. “And you want to bring me there?”

Even just nods, like it's the simplest thing in the would. Like Isak shouldn't question why on earth he would want Isak to see something that was obviously so special to Even. Something so private.

The sun hits Even’s face perfectly and highlights his stupidly high cheekbones and soft yet sharp jaw. His eyelashes flutter and his skin looks so soft.

He doesn’t say anything in return. He just turns away from Even’s stupid fucking beautiful face and looks back to his window and lets the air hit his face harshly. He ignores the way his heart flipped as he thought about what this could mean.

.

By the time they reach Even’s safe place, the sun is setting and the air is beginning to cool even more. Isak had forgotten to bring a sweatshirt to school today so he borrows one that Even has in the back seat. It smells sweet and strong just like him. Isak hates that he notices.

This place is nothing special. A small hill running wild with overgrown grass and widespread weeds. But it’s quiet and secluded. So calm that Isak swears he can hear the world spinning. He can hear the whispers of nature all around him.

“Nothing special,” Even practically reads Isak’s mind. “But this place takes me back to the basics,” he tells him as they make their way around Sweetpea - sitting back against her hood. Even produces one of his carefully hidden joints and smiles. “No one and nothing around. Just me and Mother Nature.”

Isak nods and pulls Even’s long sleeves over his hands and snuggles deeper into the hoodie.

Something about the way the wind pushes the grass gently makes Isak feel calmed too.

A few minutes tick by in silence. Even lights the joint and passes it back and forth with Isak. It’s some pretty good stuff and Isak feels his body begin to feel heavier almost instantly. His mind getting caught up in the calmness and tranquility around them. Even’s body is close enough to push just slightly up against his and Isak loves the feeling but doesn’t let that show.

Even pulls a breath in around the blunt between his lips and keeps his voice low as he speaks, “I used to hate places like this.”

Isak reaches up and takes the smoke from between Even’s lips, the movement familiar and natural by now, it makes Even look over and smile - smoke streaming from his nostrils.

“Like what?”

“Quiet,” Even answers - he leans further back against the hood until he’s laying down fully, head hitting the metal with a thud.

Isak follows suit.

The sky is painted pretty colors of gold and orange and pink.

Isak’s tongue feels heavy and his thoughts feel light.

Even continues, “Peaceful. A place where I could be alone and think. I hated thinking. I hated being alone with everything inside of my head. I used to actively avoid places like this. I used to try to be around people as much as possible. I partied a lot and made sure I was with at least one person during the day.”

Isak frowns and passes the joint to the older boy once again.

“That sounds exhausting.”

“Oh, it was,” Even chuckles. Isak can hear him inhale. “But being alone with what was inside my head was even more exhausting.”

“What was inside your head?”

There’s a pause, the wind is loud as it rushes by. Isak can’t help but feel so fucking comfortable even against the hard unforgiving metal of the car’s hood.

“Darkness.”

“Oh,” is the only brilliant response Isak can come up with.

“I’m Bipolar,” Even blurts out.

Isak can hear the choppiness of his words and the hesitation of his voice. Like he’s expecting Isak to run now. Like he’s expecting him to freak out and fuck off.

Which, sounds like a pretty Isak thing to do.

But, oddly enough, Isak doesn't flinch. Maybe it’s the high, maybe it’s just Even. But Isak doesn’t want to freak out or fuck off.

He’s not completely familiar with bipolar disorder but he’d read a few things about it when he used to google search for answers about his mom. When he used to grasp at straws and try to find answers for the darkness that clouded her mind too. The darkness that clouded their life.

He skimmed over the bipolar parts because it didn’t sound too much like what his mom might have wrong with her.

He knew that it involved insane, intense mood swings. Ups and downs, as they described it. He knew it involved thoughts and feelings that left Even with those brutal scars.

He also knew that Even was okay now, living with it.

“Okay,” Isak replies - blinking up at the darkening sky, the stars becoming more visible and bright.

Even releases a shaky breath, “Okay.”

Isak wants to ask questions. He knows he should probably say more. He should comfort Even in some sort of way. But he doesn’t know how.

So, he reaches out instead, eyes remaining up and away from Even, and he takes the other boy’s hand in his own.

It’s large and warm and makes his palm tingle.

He decides to start giving back, giving something to Even. Something that Even wants, something he’s been waiting so fucking patiently for.

His eyes flutter shut and he takes advantage of the nice buzz he has going from the weed. He lets himself let go of worry and nervousness. He lets himself push away the thoughts of sickness and failure and disappointment. He pushes away the lies - even the ones that fell from his lips just hours earlier.

“I think I’m sick too.” He admits it, his words being carried quietly to Even in the wind, something he’s never really admitted out loud.

He lets himself speak the truth.

“How are you sick?” Even asks just as quietly - voice still smooth and soothing.

Isak can feel his head turn and his warm candy like breath hit his burning cold cheek but Isak doesn’t dare open his eyes, doesn’t dare look back.

“I feel…” Isak squeezes his eyes shut harder. “I have darkness in my head too. Sometimes it’s so dark that I feel like I’ll never be able to see anything again. It...I get lost in there. I feel like I can’t move. I feel like I can’t breathe and I don’t know how to make it stop.”

Isak’s breathing begins to pick up and he barely notices that Even’s hand begins to squeeze his tighter.

“Well, actually that's a lie. I do know how to make it stop but it’s...it’s not a healthy way. And it’s killing me. It’s killing me because I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know how to stop. I don’t know how to make the darkness leave and I...I don’t know how to breathe on my own.”

The only sound in the air for a while is Isak’s harsh breathing. He can feel his heartbeat bang against his chest repeatedly. He can feel Even’s hand in his own and that's the only thing that keeps him grounded.

“Isak,” Even whispers out - so sweet sounding. The whisper almost sounds like a plea, like something of wonder and curiosity, and hope.

This time, Isak turns. Green meeting blue. Wild meeting calm. Lost meeting found.

“It’s easier to breathe around you,” Isak tells him. And it doesn’t even hurt. It doesn’t make his heart break to say the words. He isn’t scared here. Not with Even.

Even’s eyes are dancing with emotions that Isak can’t exactly place.

But they’re beautiful.

They’re so fucking beautiful and Isak can’t stop it. Can’t stop the feelings rushing through him - head to toe. New and strong and beautiful.

His body burns but this time it has nothing to do with anger and cravings or sadness.

It’s Even. It’s just Even.

So, he doesn’t fight when Even turns his body, bring his large palm up to rest against Isak’s cheek. He doesn’t flinch as Even runs his thumb soothingly against the skin covering his cheekbone and the little dip below his eye.

He doesn’t pretend that it’s not exactly everything he wants in the world when Even leans in and presses his warm lips against Isak’s.

He tastes exactly like he feels. Warm and comforting and sweet. He tastes like smoke and kindness. It’s a soft kiss with no tongue and no frantic movements. There’s passion - but it’s subtle in a way that makes something in Isak’s chest stir and something in his belly burn.

When Even pulls away he doesn’t go far. Isak can still tastes his breath and feel the brush of his lips whenever he breathes back.

Their eyes flutter open together and Even speaks, “Thank you.”

And Isak understands.

He understands.

 _No_ , he wants to say, _thank **you**._

“You’re welcome.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo...things continue to move along. 
> 
> I really wanted to show a little bit more of Jonas' POV and his line of thinking. I hope you guys enjoyed getting inside his head a little bit. 
> 
> Next chapter will deal a lot more with Isak + Even's developing relationship and his home life. So, get ready for that!
> 
> Let me know what you guys think in the comments below! I'm anxious to hear your thoughts about the car scene as well as Jonas' POV! :D <3\. Your feedback fuels my inspiration!


	18. A/N: UPDATES COMING SOON!

**Author’s Note: But Like...Not a Bad One**

I know it’s been awhile since I updated so I felt like I should just reach out and ease any worries! This story is **NOT** abandoned! I will be finishing it. I’ve had my outline completed for months now and I definitely don’t plan on stopping any time soon.

This story means way too much to me :)

However, due to university work piling up, regular work, and personal issues - life has been...hard. So its been taking a little longer than expected to get these chapters back together and posted. It may be a little longer before I update next because I’m going to try to get a few chapters re-written before I update again!

Or...inspiration might strike as soon as I’m done posting this author’s note and I’ll write 10 chapters with ease and be posting tomorrow. Who knows! Let’s hope for that one.

Anyway, I just thought I’d say hi and don’t worry! I haven’t disappeared. I also plan on updating The Workings of Love as soon as possible as well for anyone reading/wondering about that. As always...thank you all so much for your patience and kind words <3\. You really touch my heart.

I'll be deleting this author's note as soon as I post the next chapter! See you then!

\- endlessandinfinite 

 

P.S. I am so sorry to anyone who got excited thinking this was a new chapter update. I promised myself I'd never leave an author's note like this. Apparently, I lied. Hahaha. 


	19. I'M BACK! NEW UPDATE SOON!

**I'M BACK...ARE YOU GUYS STILL HERE?**

I **PROMISE** this is the last time I will be posting an author's note and destroy your hopes of this being a new chapter.

But I did want to drop in and give you guys an update on this story and my life I guess. Because a lot of you have been asking and I always say a chapter is coming soon and then another month passes and...nothing. And I feel so horrible about it. So I wanted to reach out and really let you guys know whats going on.

Recently, my personal life has been...tough. In October my mother passed away and it hit me hard. Really hard. As you'd imagine I put everything on the back burner and focused on myself emotionally and gave myself time to grieve. I took some time off from university and lost all inspiration when it came to not only my Evak stories but my own personal writing. But I'm finally starting to feel like myself again. I'm still grieving obviously and I don't think I'll ever be done grieving. But I've managed to pull myself together and learn to live again and focus on myself and school. My mom would want me to continue my life the best I could and write and learn and grow and I know she'd be proud :)

So...I'm back!!!! I've been working on some chapters to this story and getting some ends tied up and the next chapter will be posted sometime NEXT WEEK! YAY! 

I just hope you guys are still here and still want to read. I've been nervous about that.

And I really want to thank those of you who have sent me messages and left comments voicing your concerns and encouragement <3\. You guys have so much patience with me and I am so thankful. You fuel my fire to write this story! 

 

Anyway, that's all for now! I hope you guys are still excited for the next chapter! 

 

See you soon!

 

\- endlessandinfinite <3.


	20. This Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hesitantly peeks out behind my rock and waves* ....hi
> 
> I'm going to keep this short and sweet. As you all know I've been going through some intense personal issues since October. And I know I posted an author's note saying I would update soon and it is now a month later...hahahah. But to keep it short, after I posted that I had a slight episode that caused me to have to go and get my meds adjusted. But after I did...it gave me new hope and inspiration for continuing this story. Not only for you guys but for me too. To show the ups and downs we all go through and how that translates to this story. That is so important to me.
> 
> As always I want to thank every single one of you guys for your outstanding support, understanding, patience, and kind words <3\. You're amazing. 
> 
> Note about this chapter: we're easing back into things so it may seem a little short but I actually really love it :) 
> 
> AND I have the next few chapters already written and/or outlined so I should be updating at least a little more frequently! 
> 
> & one last thing: I HIGHLY suggest you re-read this story if you haven't already because of how long it's been since an update. I know I had to. Hahahaha. Or at the very least skim over the last few chapters. Just for a quick recap.
> 
> Also, a huge thanks to my editor Jenn who is VERY patient and awesome :D
> 
> Anyway, with all of that out of the way. I hope you enjoy this chapter and continue on this journey with me <3.

.

 

.

 

.

 

_ “It is both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so deeply.” _

 

_....._

 

Even wakes up with slow blinks and fading dreams. He turns his head towards the streaming sun and smiles widely at the smell that surrounds him.

Isak.

Even rolls out of bed, pulling on his sweatpants and throwing on a plain white shirt.

_ Isak. _

They haven’t talked about it.

They  _ don’t _ talk about it. They don’t face it directly. It’s something that lingers and nudges in the back of their minds but doesn’t make its way into the air between them.

It’s stupid. Even knows it’s stupid. It’s reckless and careless and he’s going to end up regretting this decision. But he can’t help it. He’s always been a little reckless. And if anything is worth that recklessness - it’s this. 

Everything in his entire body is fighting against the rational part of his brain. The part that tells him to run, tells him to get out while he can, tells him to protect himself.

The other part of Even though can’t help but  _ want.  _ He wants to stay. He wants to stay close to Isak. He wants to hold him and protect him and shield him from the horrors of the world around him. He wants to reach inside of him and pull out everything that is hurting him, everything that has  _ ever _ hurt him.

He just wants Isak. Silly and foolish. But true.

Everything has been pretty much the same since the kiss on the car. Everything but the looming questions and undeniable doubt. Everything except the kissing. Lots and lots of kissing.

Isak lips are so addictive. Petal soft and sugar sweet. They fit perfectly in between Even’s own.

Even wants to ask questions. He wants to understand Isak’s harsh words about sexuality. He wants to understand why he feels that way. But he doesn’t ask. He knows it’s too soon. That his questions will just scare Isak away.

He has to take this slowly.

Isak’s mind is much too fragile. And Even knows how to deal with fragile things. His mind has always been just as fragile.

Right now, Isak is snuggled in Even’s bed, looking so soft and cute and sleep-warm that Even almost can’t stand it. Isak’s been staying over more and more, becoming so comfortable here in Even’s home, his clothes, his bed.

Isak lets Even touch him more now. He lets him smooth the worry lines from his face when he’s anxious and twirl his pretty curls between his fingers when they watch movies.

And Isak touches Even more now too. When they’re on the couch, smoking in comfortable silence, Isak lets his head fall onto Even’s shoulder. He lets their shoulders brush together and their fingers touch.

Even smiles at the boy as he pauses at the doorway.

_ He’s so fucking beautiful. _

His loose blonde curls peek out from beneath the hood of Even’s hoodie that Isak has seemed to claim for his own. His lips are parted as he snores ever so subtly. He looks so peaceful when he sleeps. Young and innocent and so lovely. His long limbs spread out across the bed, being the bed hog he is.

Even feels the now familiar tug in his chest and the lightness of his stomach.

He’s never felt anything quite like this before.

It’s terrifying.

It’s wonderful.

Even has never been less sure of anything in his whole life.

But there’s no turning back now.

.

When Isak wakes up and wanders into the kitchen, Even isn’t finished cooking. He’s flipping the blueberry pancakes expertly and whistling as the radio plays in the background.

Even feels Isak approach rather than sees him. He hears the younger boy’s quiet, hesitant steps towards the kitchen. As comfortable as Isak has seemed to become here, the past few weeks, he’s still hesitant sometimes.

Sometimes it seems as though he doesn’t want to cross some kind of imaginary line he’s drawn for himself. A line that Even can’t quite figure out, can’t quite see. Although, it has always seemed to Even that Isak isn’t exactly comfortable  _ anywhere _ . Including his own skin.

It’s hard for Even to predict Isak’s next move. Even had always been the unpredictable one in all of his relationships. He’s been the one keeping other people on their toes, leading the way while they followed. This sudden role reversal is extremely unnerving for him.

Even waits him out, not letting Isak know he’s aware of his presence, he lets Isak make the first move – like he usually does.

Even counts to one hundred and eighty until Isak’s sleep scratchy voice breaks the silence.

“Good morning,” he says softly.

Even smiles. Even just the sound of this boy’s voice makes Even’s stomach flip as his skin raises with goosebumps. It’s ridiculous.

He quickly switches the stove off and flops the last pancake onto the plate beside him before turning and smiling brightly.

Isak stands at the kitchen archway, his eyes still filled with sleep as he blinks over at Even from under dark thick eyelashes.

Even wants to kiss his pouty lips and bury his face into the warm skin of his neck just to smell his sweet scent.

Instead, Even replies, “Good morning, sleepy head.”

Isak pulls at the too-long sleeves of Even’s blue hoodie and rolls his eyes – finally making his way into the kitchen fully. His socked feet glide along the tiled floor, his sweatpants slipping down his hips slightly.

“It’s only ten” Isak replies “Not all of us wake up at the crack of dawn.”

He sits down at the table and smiles softly back at Even. His cheeks are rosy pink and his lips are sleep-chapped. He rubs his eyes lazily and leans back in his chair.

“So, you cooked me breakfast or what?”

Even laughs loudly, shaking his head and gazing at Isak in wonder.

_ This boy. _

_ This fucking boy. _

_. _

_. _

_. _

It’s weird. Being this way with Isak.

Weird but…good. Amazing actually.

Isak sits on his bed, a simple gray blanket thrown over him, his eyes glued to Even’s laptop as he watches another film. Even can’t even remember which film he picked out for Isak to watch this time. He has a running list he’s trying to get through.

Even is across the room painting, or trying to paint really. But Isak can be very, very distracting. Even is definitely rubbing off on him a bit. Isak doesn’t like to admit it but Even sees it in the way he leans in so intently when watching a film. How his eyes are so wide and expressive as he follows the story closely. Even is turning him into a movie person.

Isak glances up suddenly, catching Even’s eyes with his sharp green ones, before biting his lip and looking back down quickly. Even can see the pink begin to fill Isak’s cheeks.

It’s amazing how fast Isak can switch – sometimes cocky and closed off, sometimes so open and shy and timid.

Even can’t keep up. But he loves it. He never thought he’d be the type but he loves this chase. Being with Isak like this is like trying to put together a complicated puzzle. 

Even looks back to his blank canvas, taking a deep breath, trying to refocus.

But he’s quickly pulled away again when Isak’s soft, curious voice fills the room “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

Even looks up to find Isak still looking down. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth and his fingers trace random invisible patterns on the comforter underneath him. Even just now notices that the movie is paused as well.

“Sure.” Even shrugs, trying to seem casual.

But on the inside, he’s screaming. Isak isn’t the one who initiates conversations. He doesn’t ask too many questions and he only opens up when he feels safe to do so – which isn’t often. Even lives for moments when Isak’s curiosity peaks. When he asks questions about Even and seems to really listen to the answers.

It makes Even feel a silly sort of comfort. An irrational way of Even feeling like maybe Isak is just as invested in this  _ thing _ as he is. Walking into this just as blindly, but also just as willingly.

It makes Even’s heart beat double time.

“How…” Isak’s voice is small. He still doesn’t meet Even’s eyes as he seems to try to find the words to speak. Even can hear his shallow and shaky breathing over the silent buzz of the bedroom air.

Even holds his breath.

“I mean…how did you know? Or, no, how did you like…tell people I guess.”

Even’s brow furrows, not understanding Isak’s jumbled thoughts in the slightest.

“What?” He chuckles.

Isak huffs, looking up sharply, seemingly frustrated with himself.

“I just mean…how did you  _ know _ ?” Isak’s voice dips even lower. So low that Even might not be able to hear the words if he wasn’t listening so intently, if he wasn’t holding his breath in anticipation.

Isak’s lips shake as he continues to speak. His eyes looking lost and scared. His chest moving up and down too quickly.

Even wants to move to him, touch his skin and make it okay.

“How did you know you were… _ pansexual _ ? That you…. like boys too?” Isak almost looks physically pained as the words leave his lips. Like they sting his skin. Like just the words themselves were dirty, were wrong, were frightening to him.

_ Holy shit. _

Even definitely wasn’t expecting that question.

His eyebrows shoot up and he drops the paintbrush in his hand – it hits the canvas leaving red blotches of paint behind.

“Oh,” Even breathes out. He knows he sounds startled.

“Shit,” Isak shakes his head, eyes closing, shutting his emotions off to Even once again.

Isak doesn’t say much with words but his eyes can tell a million stories with just one glance. Even can see everything in that deep green. The sadness, the pain, the happiness, the fear, the ache, the hope. Isak’s eyes were essentially Even’s lifeline to keeping this relationship going. He could gauge Isak’s mood by those eyes. They told him when to push and when to pull. When to ask and when to wait. When to touch and when to leave a space between them.

“Isak it’s- “

“I’m sorry,” Isak continues to shake his head, his hands balling into tight fists by his sides, “That was fucking stupid to ask. I shouldn’t have even – “

“Isak” Even sighs, moving around his easel and over to the edge of the bed.

He doesn’t try to move closer to the younger boy. He just sits lightly on the edge, keeping his composure calm. He stays silent until Isak blinks his eyes open.

They’re wide and wondering in a way that makes Even’s insides shake.

Even swallows thickly as he gazes at the ache within Isak’s stare.

_ This fucking boy. _

Even can see how trapped Isak is inside his own mind. How scared and alone. How he wants nothing more than to get out.

And Even wishes he had the answers. He wishes he could just figure out the right thing to do. He wishes he could take on all of Isak’s pain as his own so this beautiful, precious, mysterious, damaged boy could learn to smile again. If he ever had in the first place.

Even’s helplessness in this situation makes his chest ache. Helplessness is something he’s familiar with when it comes to himself. His disorder had rendered him helpless for so long. But this is a new kind of helpless. 

He powers through it though. For Isak.

“Isak,” He repeats, making sure his eyes hold nothing but sureness, nothing but sincerity, “It’s okay. You can ask me whatever you want. If I don’t feel comfortable with the question, I’ll tell you. I’m not ashamed of being pansexual. You can ask.”

Isak’s eyes flick back and forth between his own, searching for something Even isn’t quite sure of, but he seems to find it as he bites his lip softly, his fists loosening a bit before he answers, “Okay.”

Even figures out quickly that it’s Isak’s way of asking the question again. He doesn’t want to say the words out loud a second time.

“Uhm,” Even starts, not really sure how to explain, “I guess I started realizing that I was different from other boys when I was about fourteen. I mean, not completely different because, yeah, I liked girls too.” Even chuckles, his childhood memories coming back to him, warming his insides. “But…I noticed that they  _ only _ talked about girls, you know? They only thought about  _ girls _ that way. But I…sometimes I thought about kissing boys too. Sometimes the girls I imagined kissing turned into boys in my mind. And as I got older I realized that it didn’t really matter to me if I was kissing a boy or a girl. The person’s gender identity, their sex, the way they expressed their sexuality – none of it mattered to me. If two people have a connection then it’s a beautiful thing. No matter what. You know?”

Even pauses for a moment, watching Isak’s reaction very closely, hoping he didn’t make a mistake with his choice of wording because,  _ no,  _ Isak probably doesn’t know.

Isak looks down, focusing intently on his lap. He doesn’t say anything right away. He just…stares. Even can hear his heavy breathing and notices the way his fists are clenching and unclenching by his sides.

“Did it ever feel… _ wrong _ ?” Isak’s voice is soft and so, so quiet.

Even feels the words hit him forcefully in the chest. There’s something about Isak’s voice – the way it quivers as he asks what should be such a simple question. Something that has always come so easily to Even. Sexual expression. Being comfortable with his sexuality and human sexuality in general.

His mom and dad were always open people. When Even was young and curious, they answered his questions with honesty. His parents were always loving towards each other and their son. Even was lucky that way.

But the way Isak talks about this. It’s like he thinks it’s  _ dirty.  _ Even doesn’t know if it’s sexuality in general or just the whole  _ gay  _ thing but it breaks Even’s heart. He wants to wrap his arms around the younger boy and take away all that hate and fear. He wants to know what made Isak this way, who didn’t care enough to keep him safe and let him know there was nothing wrong with him, and he wants to erase it all. Just take it away and make it okay.

Even swallows thickly when Isak finally lifts his eyes to meet his own again. They’re so lost, so helpless – like he wants to run and wants to hide.

Even can’t help but think about how  _ brave _ this boy is. He doesn’t know what happened to him, doesn’t know what made Isak feel this way, but this is obviously something that scares him –  _ terrifies _ him – and yet he’s here. Asking. Trying to face it the best he can. Opening up even the tiniest bit.

Even’s heart swells at the thought that maybe, just maybe, Isak feels only comfortable enough with him to ask these questions.

Isak blinks up at him so innocently.

“No,” Even answers “It never felt wrong. In fact, it felt incredibly  _ right _ . It felt right to finally know what was different about me. It felt right to know who I was and what I really wanted. It made me feel…real.”

Isak’s face doesn’t change, giving nothing away as Even tries to gauge his reaction to his words.

Even doesn’t know how much time passes but Isak finally nods, he doesn’t speak, but he keeps nodding as he turns away.

Isak goes back to watching his movie.

Even goes back to painting.

And it’s that simple for now.

.

.

.

Even shifts in the uncomfortable booth, he keeps his eyes downcast as the steam from his coffee touches his face and makes it slightly easier for him to breathe.

He can feel Jonas’ eyes on him – steady and unnerving. He can’t blame him. Even asked him to come here with no context or explanation. Jonas probably thinks something is wrong with Isak. It’s all he and Even really talk about. It’s the only thing they know they have in common.

“So,” Jonas huffs impatiently “Are you going to say something or are we just going to sit here all fucking day?”

Even sighs, lifting his eyes to meet the other boy’s. He knows Jonas means well but he doesn’t appreciate the way he talks to him. How demanding he is when it comes to Isak. How he practically orders Even to report to him. It’s wearing on his nerves.

Jonas looks tired. He has dark circles under his eyes, his hair sleep-rumpled and his eyes red. He’s worried and stressed and Even feels bad for him.

He’s a good friend.

“I can’t do this anymore.” Even says bluntly, figuring that this is the best approach. 

He feels bad for having to do this, knowing that Jonas’ intentions are nothing but pure, but this isn’t right. This isn’t him. The closer he gets to Isak the more this situation makes his skin crawl. He doesn’t want to fuck this up. He can’t fuck this up.

Jonas shakes his head, clearly confused, “Can’t do what?”

“This whole thing,” He waves his hand in between them “This reporting back to you on Isak and what he’s doing. It just doesn’t feel right. I, I just can’t do that to him, okay? I know you mean well but it just doesn’t feel right and I don’t want to mess up what Isak and I have.”

Even tries to focus his eyes anywhere but on Jonas as he rushes his words out. He’s never been great with confrontation.

“And what is that exactly?”

Even looks back at Jonas and startles at the look on his face. He’s practically scowling from across the table. His eyes are narrowed in a way that makes Even want to shrink away from him.

“Excuse me?”

“I  _ said _ what exactly is it that’s going on between you and Isak? Huh?” Jonas’ voice gets louder with each word and out of the corner of his eye, Even notices a few people looking over at them. “Tell me Even, what exactly is it about  _ you _ that makes  _ my _ best friend so fucking comfortable? What makes him tell you things? What makes you so goddamn special?”

Even opens and closes his mouth a few times, a few noises spilling from his lips, he feels a sinking begin to start in his stomach at Jonas’ tone – a tone that makes him feel as though Jonas is  _ accusing _ him of something.

Even doesn’t know. He doesn’t fucking  _ know _ what it is exactly that pulls him to Isak. He doesn’t know what it is that makes Isak gravitate towards him. It just is. It’s something chemical. Something that he can’t quite explain. All Even knows is that when Isak presses his lips to his own, so hesitant and so beautiful, Even loses his breath. He gets lost in his scent, in his touch, in his sadness. He doesn’t know why but he doesn’t want to stop it.

Maybe it’s something like Isak said about all that parallel universe stuff. In this universe...maybe they’re just drawn to each other. No explanation needed.

He likes Isak. He likes all his cracks and breaks. He likes all his secrets and complexity. He likes his green eyes and long lashes. He likes his soft skin and cocky smirk.

He just likes him.

He just wants him.

Before Even can find the words to reply, Jonas continues –

“You know what?” Jonas laughs, shaking his head as if in disbelief “I don’t even fucking care what it is that’s going on. All I know is that I know things that you  _ never _ will and you should do well to fucking remember that. It was me who was there when he had nowhere to turn, it was  _ my _ shoulder that he cried on when it got too much, it was me who took him in when he was covered in blood and bruises. Not you. And you can’t – you can’t just fucking stroll in here and think you know everything about him and think you can fucking fix him and, and – you can’t fucking – you don’t know him, okay? You don’t know about the girls, you don’t know about the drugs. You don’t know how many fucking times I’ve saved his life, even though he probably didn’t want me to. You don’t know what it’s like to not be able to trust your best friend, not when they’re like he is – someone you love so much, someone who – “

“Excuse me, is there a problem here?”

Even looks over to see their waitress shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. Her voice is hesitant and her eyes bounce back and forth between the boys.

Even shakes his head, letting out a shaky breath that he didn’t even know he was holding.

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m sorry about the noise. We’ll keep it down.”

The waitress nods, saying, “Okay. Just please do. My boss said that if you guys continue, I’ll have to ask you to leave,” before she walks away.

Even turns back to Jonas and is surprised to see tears running down his cheeks. Even wants to reach out and touch one of his shaking hands. Let him know it’s okay. Let him know that Even understands. But the truth is that he doesn’t know if it’s okay, and he doesn’t know if he fully understands yet.

Even doesn’t know if Jonas realizes just how much he revealed to Even. So much yet so little at the same time - creating a swirling storm in Even’s mind.

His heart aches for this boy and he will now never question whether Jonas cares for Isak just as much as Sana cares for him. The answer is yes.

Jonas’ eyes bore into Even’s – unwavering, as he nods once, like he’s come to some kind of decision that he’s keeping to himself, before he stands. He fishes in his pocket for a moment before throwing some money on the table for his coffee.

“Just be careful, alright?” He says in a quiet voice, a little hoarse from getting so worked up. A little bitter, a little sweet, “I think Isak hates himself more than he can ever love anybody.”

Even doesn’t move for at least an hour after Jonas leaves.

He isn’t sure exactly what he’s feeling. In fact, he isn’t sure he’s really feeling anything. He’s almost numb. His body and mind seeming to reject all the information that’s been thrown his way.

But all that’s running through his mind is –

_ Isak. _

_ Isak. _

_ Fucking Isak. _

_ This boy. _

_ This fucking boy. _

He needs to know him. He needs to learn him. 

Now, he’s never been _surer_ of anything else in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Our boys are back <3.


	21. Everything, everything, everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW. I'm surprised that I'm posting a chapter so soon after the last one too. This is so unlike me.
> 
> Thank you to every single one of you who continue to read, support, and give your feedback for this story <3\. You're all beautiful.
> 
> A big thank you to Jenn! Who edits my horrible grammar and spelling mistakes. 
> 
> See you at the bottom notes! Enjoy!

_._

 

_._

 

_._

_“You may call me a hypocrite for not taking my own advice._

_But really I’m just trying to save you from the habits that I cannot stop.”_

 

_......_

 

Even’s skin is pale and smooth and so, so soft beneath Isak’s fingers. His eyes skim over the small bumps and light scars, and he admires every little perfect imperfection.

They lay on Even’s bed side by side, face to face. Even’s sleepy blue eyes locked on his.

Isak doesn’t know if he’s ever going to get used to this feeling. Waking up in a safe space, so comfortable and relaxed. Going to sleep wrapped in Even’s blankets. He can’t remember ever being able to close his eyes and still feel safe enough to fall asleep.

Even makes him feel safe. Isak isn’t exactly sure what it is about the older boy. Maybe it’s his soft eyes that are never filled with anger or judgement. Maybe it’s his soft words that are always filled with such patience. A kind a patience and understanding Isak has never experienced before.

It scares the fucking shit out of him. But no matter how much he tries, knowing that this can’t end any other way but badly, he’s not ready to let go of it yet.

The mood in the room is light and relaxed and morning fresh.

Isak knows he should be freaking out by now. Screaming and running. But the conversation the boys had on the car that night where all of Isak’s secrets didn’t seem so scary when Even was there. The way they kiss now and unlike every other kiss Isak has had in his life, it just feels so _right._ Isak has been oddly calm and collected about the whole thing, although he has a strong inkling that it mostly has something to do with Even. Even has this way of making Isak feel like everything is okay – even when it wasn’t. Even makes him feel like his words aren’t so crazy and his mind wasn’t so broken.

He makes him forget about things like sickness and powder and fear.

“You have pretty eyes.”

Isak lets out a loud laugh. And the older boy does _this_. Even blurting out random compliments has seemingly become a regular fixture in Isak’s life now. It’s both unsettling and something that makes Isak’s entire body feel warm from the inside out.

“They’re just green.”

Even hums, lips curved up slightly, “Which is beautiful. Green eyes are the rarest color eyes in the world, you know.”

Isak’s eyebrows raise, “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm,” Even replies “I read somewhere that only two percent of the world’s population have green eyes or some shit. So, beautiful _and_ rare.”

Isak purses his lips. His eyes run over Even’s face again and again. His thumb traces over the older boy’s heart shaped freckle and his fingertips touch his pretty pink lips. The happiness in Even’s eyes is something Isak will never get over.

“I think I prefer blue eyes,” Isak whispers like a secret.

Even’s smile is the most beautiful, precious thing that Isak has ever seen. Isak will compliment Even’s eyes as much as he fucking can if it gets that reaction out of him.

And then Even’s leaning forward and Isak’s eyes are falling shut and their lips meet – a little dry and a lot chapped – but perfect.

“I should go,” Isak murmurs quietly against Even’s lips. “I haven’t checked in on Lea for a few days now.”

“Hmm,” Even pulls his head back and Isak immediately misses the warmth of his lips, the comfort of his small breaths. “How’s she doing?”

Isak sighs, “Not good. She still won’t talk to me.”

Even nods, like he understands everything that Isak could ever say.

“Go to her.”

.

.

.

Isak leans against the archway of the kitchen. He watches sadly as his sister scribbles quickly and sloppily, rushing through her homework in a way she never would have a few weeks ago.

She hasn’t been the same since the last crash. She hasn’t been talking to her brother. Isak and Lea have their ups and downs. They bicker and they fight and they disagree on _a lot_ of things. But communication has never been a problem with them. At least not in this way. Not in such a real way. Usually they can know exactly what the other is thinking by just a simple look. This is new and horrible and Isak can’t fucking stand it.

Lea is blocking herself off, she’s pushing Isak away.

This isn’t right.

This isn’t how it works.

Isak’s the one that hides. Isak is the one that pushes people away and Lea is the one who always pulls him back.

Isak can’t stand to see her this way. Lea is strong and brave. She’s everything that her brother isn’t. Maybe it’s a little unfair to feel this way. To expect Lea to always be so strong and able. But he just wants her to be okay. He wants her to stay strong enough to survive here until she’s able to get out.

She succeeds in every way that Isak fails and Isak has always taken great comfort in that.

“You know just standing there and staring like that is creepy as hell.”

Isak smiles. At least she hasn’t lost her sass.

He makes his way over and sits next to her.

Isak can’t help but feel guilty for spending so much time away. He’s been spending all his free time, which is basically all of his time, with Even. Which means Lea has been here all alone dealing with the aftermath of their mother’s crash.

He’s been wrapped up in blue, stumbling in another direction, messing up again. He can’t seem to get anything right.

He notices how tired Lea’s eyes are. They remind him of his own – vacant and sad.

“Lea,” He sighs, running a hand through his tangle of curls.

“What Isak?” Lea sighs back, already knowing what’s about to come. She tosses her pencil down and lets her eyes meet her brother’s.

Isak wants to cry.

He scoots his chair closer to hers but doesn’t touch her like he normally would. She’d just flinch away, stinging Isak in a way he knows he deserves.

“You can talk to me, you know that.” He says lightly, making sure to not let his gaze stray from hers. He wants her to know how serious he is about this.

This isn’t like dad’s drunken rampages or even their mother’s crazy fits. This is new territory for Lea. This is something she hasn’t been exposed to as much as Isak. Having something keeping you close, keeping you safe, just to have it suddenly and forcefully taken away. Isak remembers his first time watching his mother crash like this. No one is strong enough to handle it.

“We’re talking right now, Isak,” Lea replies – her voice void of emotion as if just stating simple fact.

“Lea you – “

“No,” Lea snaps suddenly, making Isak snap his mouth shut in surprise.

She lets out an empty sounding laugh and shakes her head, sitting back in her chair. She continues to shake her head as her eyes run over Isak’s face as if she’s trying to find something she’s misplaced.

She bites her lips for a moment before speaking. “No, you don’t get to do this, Isak.”

“Do what?” Isak asks, genuinely confused. “I’m just saying that I know it’s hard and you have to open up about what you’re feeling and – “

“Oh, that’s fucking _rich_ coming from you,” Lea cuts him off, letting out a cruel chuckle.

“Lea I – “

“So, what? You’re allowed to shut everyone out? You’re allowed to shut _me_ out but I’m not? You’re not the only one hurting, Isak.”

“I know that!” He snaps back.

He feels a wave of heat suddenly rush over him. He leans back with a small huff. None of this is fucking coming out right.

That’s the whole point. He doesn’t want Lea to be like him. Of course, she’s hurting too. Of course, she has every right to hurt just as much as he does. But she can’t end up like him. She just fucking _can’t_.

Isak clenches his teeth, closes his eyes, trying to find the words he’s looking for.

“That’s not what I’m saying. I just – “

“That’s _exactly_ what you’re saying, Isak.”

Isak’s eyes snap open at the harsh sound of Lea’s chair scraping against the rough tile floor.

Lea eyes him for a moment.

Isak wants so badly to reach out to her. He wants to tell her it’s okay. He wants to let her know that he’s here. That he will always fucking be here. He wants to hold her hand and walk her to school like he did when they were little. He wants to laugh and ride bikes and erase all the pain the Valtersen children have had to endure. He wants to take all her pain away and make it his own. He’d pile it on top of the weight already built up on his shoulders. He’d take it away for her.

He would.

If he could he _would_.

But Lea’s not that little girl anymore.

Isak notices how her collarbones are more prominent than they were a few weeks ago, her baggy clothes hanging off her too slim body, her hair tossed up lazily – grease slicked and unwashed.

Her eyes aren’t hers.

Isak grabs the seat of his chair to stop the shake of his hands. He clenches his teeth until he can feel the familiar comforting pain that radiates through his jaw.

“You don’t get to decide what’s best for everyone else, Isak. You can’t even fucking take care of yourself.”

Isak’s brows furrow in confusion. He opens his mouth to ask her what she’s talking about when she suddenly reaches into the back pocket of her jeans and tosses it on the table.

The words are suddenly knocked right out of him. Everything is. He feels the force of the blow straight to his gut. He feels the blood rushing through every part of his body. He’s both cold and warm. Grounded and gone.

“Lea I don’t – I mean I didn’t – “

“Save it.” She shakes her head – her eyes full of nothing but disdain.

She’s never looked at him like that. Her eyes were soft and comforting and full of life. They were safe even when they were sad. They were hers. His baby sister.

Now the look she gave him made a sour taste pool at the back of his tongue. It made his skin flush hot and his stomach turn.

“You’re just lucky I found it and not dad.” She continues as she reaches for her books and papers, shoving them messily into her school bag. Her eyes meet his one final time. They’re ice cold, making Isak shiver. “I won’t criticize the way you ruin your life as long as you don’t criticize the way I ruin mine. Alright?”

And then she’s gone.

Isak is frozen in his seat, mouth watering and eyes fixed, he clenches his jaw even tighter – wishing he had the strength to make his teeth just crack. Make them break away and match the way his insides feel.

He stares at the small half-empty baggie of coke.

He didn’t even know he had any stashed away anywhere. He must have forgotten about it or not remembered where he put it because he was too fucked up.

He feels so exposed with it here out in the open for anyone to see. He feels like his deepest secrets are right there with it. Laid out on the rusty table to be seen and judged and pitied.

When Isak feels the first drop of water fall from his chin he finally finds it in himself to move. He grabs the baggie and shoves it roughly into his front pocket.

He slams his bedroom door and screams. He screams as loud as he can and he doesn’t care who hears.

He screams and punches and kicks. His desk chair goes flying across the room and he can feel the pain that starts in his knuckles already spreading, making its way up his arm, muscles burning as his fist makes impact with the wall again and again and again.

“Fuck!” he screams “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuck you! You piece of fucking shit. Fuck you!”

He doesn’t really know who he’s talking to at this point. He doesn’t know if he’s yelling at himself and his stupid fucking mind.

He doesn’t know if he’s talking to the sickness lingering just beneath the surface of his façade.

Or the people who got him here. The people who were supposed to protect him and didn’t.

Or the darkness scratching and clawing and begging to get out into the daylight.

Or everything inside of him that screams out for that baggie. For the white powder within it. For the escape that will shortly follow after just one simple sniff.

Eventually, Isak’s screams die down and his knuckles can’t take anymore abuse. He turns and forces his back against the wall much too roughly before sliding down to the floor. His throat is sore and his eyes are swollen. He wraps his arms around his knees and lets himself cry through his weakness.

.

.

.

The room is dark and too hot. It smells like sweat and filth and something fowl. There are dirty discarded dishes littering the bedside tables and floor. Flies circle the room and Isak has to bat them away as soon as he opens the door.

Isak can’t see her through the darkness but can hear his mother’s light breathing. She’s a lump in-between sheets and blankets and pillows.

As soon as he takes the first step into the room his heartbeat picks up speed.

He can’t remember the last time he was in his mother’s room. This room used to be filled with such light – whether it came from the morning sun when Anita pulled open the curtains or from the woman herself – smile wide and eyes full of wonder. The beauty of Anita’s spirit lit up any room she stepped into. Isak always felt so comforted here, protected almost.

And now that was gone. The room felt hollow and void of any kind of emotion, any kind of beauty or light.

Isak lets out a shaky breath as he thinks about his mother being in here all day and night, trapped inside her head, tortured by her own mess of thoughts. She doesn’t deserve to be such a prisoner.

He walks slowly to the bed, holding his breath the entire way, careful not to trip over any of the dishes or dirty clothes. When he reaches the end of the bed, he’s not exactly sure what he came here to say. He doesn’t really know what his mom is like when she’s down like this. He knows she’s sad and sleeps a lot but that’s about it. When she’s up, Isak knows what to expect. Even when her behavior is unpredictable and her actions are wild, he knows to expect the unexpected. He never comes and sees her when she’s down. He’s tried a few times but Tom always yelled at him to stay away.

_“She’s not feeling well, Isak,” Tom always said. And that was that._

Isak swallows hard, his body shaking, his stomach sick.

“Mamma?” His whisper sounds so loud in the quiet, small room. The only other sound is Isak’s heartbeat against his chest, ringing in his ears, vibrating through his ribs.

Anita doesn’t answer. She just shifts slightly, burying her face deeper into the tangled mess of blankets beside her.

“Mamma?” He tries again.

This time the woman lets out a small, pained sounding moan.

Isak’s eyes fall shut. That sound shouldn’t be coming from his mother. She doesn’t deserve to feel that kind of pain. But if there is one thing that Isak’s learned in his short time on earth, it’s that people rarely get what they deserve.

He opens his eyes and tries one more time as he fights against the emotion bubbling inside of his chest, “Mamma?”

She still doesn’t look at him, she doesn’t move this time, but she does whisper back. So, so quietly. Almost impossible to hear. But Isak is holding his breath, his teeth on edge with nerves and anticipation.

“Go away, Isak,” She mumbles into her pillow. “Mamma needs rest.”

The mix of emotions that course through him is enough to make his knees buckle.

_She remembers him._

_But she’s still so lost._

.

.

.

Lea stays in her room for the rest of the night. Isak makes sure to listen very carefully, just waiting for the moment he can open his door and catch her off guard. He doesn’t know what he would say, what he _should_ say, but he knows he has to do something.

Isak can’t afford to lose Lea.

Lea can’t afford to lose herself.

And maybe Lea’s right. Maybe that makes Isak the biggest hypocrite, piece of shit, narcissist in the entire world. But he doesn’t care. Not if that’s what he has to do to take care of his sister. To makes sure she’s safe.

Now he lays on his bed. He’s behind on school work and hasn’t spoken to anyone but Even in a few days but still – it’s Even he texts.

 **Isak:** _I’m bored. give me a movie to watch before I go to sleep._

Even’s now given Isak the password to his Netflix account. Even almost had a heart attack when he found out Isak didn’t have one of his own.

The conversation that followed was a surreal one –

_How do you watch movies then, Isak?_

_I told you I’m not a movie person._

_I know but you didn’t say you don’t watch anything! Like…ever?_

_Not really._

_Okay, no. No, no, no. We’re fixing this right now. Get a pen and paper I’m writing down my Netflix info._

Even’s reply comes in just a few minutes later.

 **Even:** _All the movies on Netflix suck right now. Come over here and watch one of my DVDs with me instead._

 **Even:** _I miss you already._

Isak feels the heat rising to his cheeks right away. He’s not used to people saying this sort of thing to him. The compliments, the gentleness of Even’s touches and stares, the way he makes Isak feel like he’s something important.

Isak isn’t quite sure how to handle it yet. He’s awkward and stumbles and doesn’t often reply. Especially when Even says things like that in person.

But Even doesn’t seem to mind that either, so fucking patient, he just smiles that fucking smile and moves on. He still says the words though. Almost like he can’t resist. Like he’ll explode if he doesn’t let Isak know exactly how he feels.

 **Isak:** _it’s late and we both have school in the morning._

 **Even:** _You’re no fun :(_

Isak hasn’t even noticed the smile on his face until his smile widens at Even’s reply, his cheeks beginning to hurt.

 **Isak:** _you mean responsible_

Even’s only reply is to send back a poorly drawn purple butterfly with uneven wings and a childish smiley face.

 **Even:** _His name is Blue._

Isak chuckles.

 **Isak:** _of course it is_

 **Even:** _Goodnight Isak <3 _

**Isak:** _Goodnight Even_

.

.

.

“What’s with the scowl?”

“Huh?” Isak looks up from his phone as Even’s voice startles him out of his swirling thoughts.

“You’re scowling at your phone,” Even chuckles. “Did it do something to you?”

The boys are currently on the tram headed to school. It’s become a daily occurrence. Going to school together, arriving together, talking in-between classes, and them sitting with the gang at lunch.

Like with most things nowadays – Even makes school tolerable. He makes it okay.

Isak sighs.

“It’s Eva.”

“Eva?”

Sometimes Isak forgets how much Even doesn’t know about him yet. He makes Isak want to open up, want to tell. But he’s too afraid of being completely cracked open. Trust is something he can’t give people. Not even Even.

He blinks up at the older boy where he stands next to him, holding the railing as the tram makes the boys sway back and forth. Every time their shoulders touch Isak glances his way, and Even smiles. And they know. They just know.

“She’s a friend of mine,” Isak answers.

“I thought me, Jonas, Magnus, and Mahdi were the only people who could tolerate you enough to be your friend.”

Isak chuckles.

“Fuck off. Eva’s one too. She…she’s going through a hard time right now and her messages are getting kind of frantic and…shit, as much as I want to help her I’m just not the right person to do that.”

Even’s eyes are soft as he replies, “Why not?”

Isak looks back at his phone and scrolls through the texts from the past few days. Each one more worrying and forceful than the last. Isak has ignored every single one.

 **Eva:** _Hey you. I miss you. Where have you been?_

 **Eva:** _Hey can you call me when you get this? It’s important._

 **Eva:** _Isak CALL ME ASAP_

 **Eva:** _Isak PLEASE. I need you right now._

 **Eva:** _Look I know everything with chris pissed you off and I’m so sorry but please please just fucking call me_

 **Eva:** _I thought we were friends_

 **Eva:** _Isak…please…_

Every word makes Isak’s heart clench. He really does love Eva. He loves her so fucking much. She’s just so _good._ She’s kind and sweet and loves to make people laugh. She lets herself be vulnerable in ways that Isak could never image was possible. She’s open and loving and smiles at Isak like he is truly worthy of being her friend.

Or at least…she was like that. Isak took all of that away from her when he showed her how to escape. It’s his fault she is the way she is, no matter how much she denies it. Isak knows the truth.

And what kills him the most is that he can’t help her get out of it now. Not when he’s not out of it himself. He’s barely holding on by a thread.

“I’m just…” Isak finally replies “I’m just not.”

“Okay.”

Even nods. Knowing that it’s all Isak is going to give him. Still so fucking patient.

They stare at each other for a moment, smiles grazing their lips, stars in their eyes. Isak can tell Even wants to lean in, take his face between his large hands and kiss him breathless.

But he can’t. He won’t.

Isak knows Even isn’t ashamed of himself the way he is. He deserves to live his life proudly and free.

Even deserves better.

Eva deserves better.

And Isak…well Isak doesn’t know exactly what he deserves.

When they reach school, Isak deletes every single one of Eva’s texts.

He’s going to spend the day avoiding her again.

He decides he doesn’t deserve anything at all.

.

.

.

Even and Isak split when they enter the school with a promise to see each other at lunch. And when Isak arrives at his locker he’s surprised to see Jonas there, leaning against his locker, clearly waiting for his friend to arrive.

Besides eating lunch together, Isak and Jonas haven’t talked much or spent much time together. Not so much on Isak’s part but Jonas’. He’s been distant. Angry. Closed off. Isak doesn’t blame him, knows he would be smart to get away from someone like Isak – rotting from the inside out. But it doesn’t hurt any less.

Isak approaches hesitantly.

“Hey, man.”

Jonas looks over with a blank expression as he shoves some books from his locker into his bag.

Isak misses his bright smile and happy eyes. He misses his best friend. School used to be one of Isak’s safe zones. He didn’t have to deal with his mom or his dad or the suffocating energy of his house. Sure, he had to pretend and go along mindlessly with what happened around him, stuff he didn’t understand. But Jonas was always there. He had Isak’s back, he words were comforting and sweet, and he always smiled.

Nowadays his friend smiled less and less and Isak couldn’t help but feel like it was his fault. Like most of the shit in their lives, most of the problems, of course it was Isak’s fault.

“Hey,” Jonas replies dully.

Isak shuffles from foot to foot, kicks the ground needlessly, and clears his throat one too many times.

“Look, I know I haven’t really – “

“You wanna swing by after school?”

Isak’s head snaps up in surprise, not at all expecting that reaction from the other boy. He’s standing up straight now, backpack slung lazily over his shoulder, face still blank.

“Oh, uhm…”

“I was just gonna head home after school and play some video games. You can join if you want. It’s up to you,” Jonas finishes up with a shrug.

Isak blinks, “Oh, uh, okay. Yeah. Cool man.”

Jonas nods, “Cool. See you at lunch.”

Isak takes a deep breath as Jonas walks away.

He’s always been amazed by Jonas’ capacity for forgiveness but this is a whole new level.

He doesn’t know whether Jonas is just unbelievably understanding, that fucking compassionate, or he’s just that fucking stupid. Stupid enough to forgive him, stupid enough to trust someone like Isak.

And Isak is selfish enough to accept either option.

.

.

.

Isak’s never been uncomfortable around Jonas. His best friend. The person who had seen him at his worst and still didn’t turn him away. The silence, if there was any, was always calm and comfortable. But now it’s just awkward. The only sound that fills the room is the loud video games and an occasional sneeze or cough from one of the boys.

Jonas’ mom greeted Isak with a warm hug and a wide smile.

_“Oh, we’ve missed you around here, Isak. Where have you been? Never stay away that long again.”_

Both boys know it’s just a matter of time before one of them has to break the silence. Isak wonders if Jonas is trying to figure out what to say too. Out of the two he’s always been better with words.

Eventually it is Jonas who speaks first, “So, where _have_ you been?”

Neither Jonas nor Isak move their eyes from the game in front of them – not ready to make eye contact. Not ready to really face the conversation they both knew was coming, that has to come.

Isak shrugs, “I don’t know. I guess there’s just been a lot of stress at home with Mamma and Lea and stuff.”

It’s not completely a lie, not completely the truth, like most of Isak’s words.

Jonas hums before speaking again, “Hanging out with Even a lot?”

Isak swallows thickly at the question. Rationally Isak knows it’s not a deep question. In fact, it’s a pretty reasonable one. Isak has never really strayed far from his group of friends. He’s never really had any other friend beside Jonas. It wasn’t until just recently that he had met and befriended Magnus and Mahdi.

But Isak can’t help but feel the paranoia sneak up on him like it always did. Crawling its way underneath his skin and making the hairs stand up on the back of his neck, sweat gathering behind the front of his snapback.

_Does he know? Is Isak being too obvious? Is he standing too close to Even or making too much eye contact?_

The words ring loudly again and again and again.

_Faggot._

_Junkie._

_Liar._

Isak pushes it back forcefully as he answers. He tries not to let his voice quiver but doesn’t know how successful he is, “Yeah. He’s pretty chill.”

He doesn’t let himself smile at the thought of Even.

He doesn’t let himself think something silly and gay like how he misses the other boy already.

He really doesn’t.

Jonas pauses the game, finally turning his body towards his friend. Isak doesn’t turn back, doesn’t move, holds his breath as his heart begins to race in fear.

_This is it. This is when it all ends. This is when Jonas figures out just how sick and disgusting his best friend is._

“I just…I just really fucking miss you, man.”

Isak’s breath catches sharply in the back of his throat as he exhales. His eyes snap over to Jonas’. He sees nothing but truth there. Nothing but care and understanding and everything he’s ever shown Isak.

Isak pushes back the tears he feels begin to form.

Jonas smiles encouragingly at his friend, eyebrows raising as he waits for his reply.

In the end Isak decides to tell Jonas something that he hopes will comfort him back. Isak doesn’t have much to offer – in fact he has nothing to offer. But this, for now, this he can give him.

“I’ve been keeping my promise, you know,” Isak says back quietly. He breaks eye contact a few times, the emotions he feels rushing too quickly through his veins, becoming too real, too much.

Maybe Even is making Isak want to open up a little more to everyone in his life.

Jonas’ smile widens, his teeth showing now.

He doesn’t question Isak any more about it. He’s not sure if Jonas actually believes him or just wants to. But Isak is thankful as he replies –

“I know.”

.

.

.

Even’s bedroom makes Isak happy. He’s not sure if that’s a weird thing to feel towards a bedroom but in all honesty, he doesn’t care. All he knows is that he has a place that makes him smile genuinely.

He talks honestly here. He lets himself just _be_ here. And that’s more than he can say for his own house, his own room. A place that is filled with nothing but lies and gloom and shadows where Isak keeps himself hidden.

Even drops his bag carelessly onto the floor and plops down on his bed right after pulling a joint from his bedside table. He didn’t even ask Isak to come over. It’s kind of just a given at this point. After school, they get on the tram and head to Even’s place.

Isak follows suit and drops his bag down heavily. He walks further into the room and looks around. He always finds something new when he comes here. Even has always painted something new or cut a picture out of a magazine that he finds funny and glued it to his wall. Or there’s a new painting in progress on a canvas. Isak loves looking at Even’s art. He likes being reminded that some people have potential in this world. That everyone isn’t as doomed as he is. Even’s free to express himself any way he wants, not stuck in his own personal trap.

This time Isak spots something he’s never seen. Drawings laid out on Even’s desk. Unlike usual they aren’t filled with color but rather are all drawn in pencil or different shades of black. They aren’t pretty or crooked or silly. They’re…dark. Scribbles on paper, overlapping lines, a mishmash of nonsense.

Isak steps closer, eyes narrow as he examines the art.

There’s a self-portrait of Even except his eyes are X’s and inside of his mind is a mess of erratically drawn lines. There’s one of a bed in the middle of an empty room, an unrecognizable monster beneath it, shadows casting across the floor in a way that makes Isak shiver in discomfort. His eyes run over the words on some of the simpler pictures – just a mess of words written across the pages.

_Monsters are real._

_Crazy. You’re fucking crazy._

_No one would care if you died._

_Make it stop. Please make it stop._

“Wanna smoke?” Even’s voice cuts through the chaos of thoughts swirling through his mind.

He turns, just now realizing that Even had already lit the joint and got out his laptop to set up a movie for the boys.

Isak bites his lips, hesitating for just a moment, but when Even looks up at him with wide questioning eyes – he knows he has to ask.

“What are these?” He asks in a low, hesitant voice.

Even peeks around Isak.

Isak doesn’t expect his question to make Even smile but it does. He doesn’t understand how something like this could make him smile, make him happy. These drawings fill Isak’s chest with unease, making his throat feel tight.

“Oh,” Even shrugs. He places the smoke between his lips again and turns back towards his laptop. “They’re just some of my drawings from when I was manic. Before I tried to kill myself. I look at them sometimes.”

Isak blinks at the other boy. His eyes flick down to the ragged scars he’s become so familiar with. The scars he’s traced a million times by now. He still doesn’t understand how Even can talk about this so casually. How he’s made his peace with such darkness.

_What the fuck?_

Isak finds most of Even’s odd traits endearing and beautiful. He’s open, whereas Isak is closed. He’s happy when Isak is empty. His paintings make Isak laugh and the wonder in his eyes constantly make Isak want to hope.

But this is…new.

“Okay…” Isak trails off in confusion. “But…why the fuck would you want to keep them? I mean don’t they just remind you of the bad times?”

Even nods, “That’s exactly why I look at them.”

Even smiles, turning and holding out the joint for Isak. He moves over to him, taking it between his fingers and sitting on the edge of the bed. He lets the smoke burn his throat and soothe his sudden anxiety.

“I don’t understand,” Isak replies as he brings the smoke up to his lips.

“I don’t know.” Even’s eyes twinkle as he speaks. “Maybe it’s weird, but I guess I keep them because they remind me of how far I’ve come. When I feel like I’m slipping or I feel weak or feel like everything is just getting too hard…they motivate me to keep going, to keep fighting. They keep me motivated to never let myself get that bad again. I don’t know if that makes any sense but…” Even shrugs, looking a bit shy for a second. Isak can see the pink color begin to form on the older boy’s cheeks and can’t help but smile at his bashfulness.

Isak nods, exhaling the smoke in his lungs, “No, no, it makes complete sense. I get that.”

And he really does. He understands that this is what keeps Even the way he is. So, strong, so brave, so unafraid of things that would break Isak. It’s the thing that Isak admires most about Even. His resilience.

“Alright,” Even’s smile widens as he scoots up on the bed, flopping down on the pillows and tucking his hands beneath his head. The sunlight streams through the curtains and makes Even’s eyes glow, “Your turn.”

“My turn?” Isak asks, eyebrows raising and he scoots after him, unable to help himself.

Even reaches for the joint and continues, “Well, I told you something about myself. Now it’s your turn.”

“Oh,” Isak says, not exactly sure where this is going, he shifts on the bed as Even’s eyes seem to look right into him – deep and searching. “Okay, what do you want to know?”

“What’s your favorite childhood memory?”

It’s a simple enough question Isak supposes. Something a normal person might not have such a hard time answering. But Isak purses his lips – searching his mind for something to say. Most of his childhood memories are filled with disarray and turmoil. Unspoken words and hidden away things.

A few minutes pass before he answers. Even doesn’t push him or ask him to hurry up. He just waits for Isak to be ready, like always.

When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet and his eyes are focused on the bed spread beneath him, “Uhm, I guess maybe it was when my sister was born. I barely remember it because I was only three so it’s kind of blurry but…I remember what my mom said to me. It was a few hours after she gave birth and I was sitting next to her on the hospital bed. My dad had gone to get food. I was so fascinated with Lea. She was so…small. I remembered her smiling even just a few hours old and she was smiling.” Isak smiles in fondness and chuckles lightly, “And my mom looked at me and it was the happiest I had ever seen her in my entire life. And she said…she said, ‘It’s our job to take care of her now, baby’ and I nodded and ever since then…I’ve tried my hardest to do that. To take care of her.”

Isak waits a while before he looks back at Even. He’s smiling lightly, his eyes soft and his cheeks red.

Isak’s eyes glance back and forth from his eyes to the wall behind him – beginning to grow a bit self-conscious.

“That’s beautiful, Isak.”

Isak licks his lips and focuses on the shades of blue in Even’s eyes.

Isak had never considered a single thing in his life beautiful. But in this moment, he thinks…maybe something could be. If only just the one moment.

.

Isak doesn’t pay much attention to the movie Even puts on. He drifts in and out but mostly keeps his eyes on Even, his head resting comfortably on Even’s warm chest, a feeling of complete contentment washing over him as Even plays with his hair, twirling the loose blonde curls between his fingers.

“Do you even know what’s going on in the movie?” Even finally asks.

Isak figured Even would eventually notice his staring, catch on to his lack of interest in the movie.

“No, not really.”

Even chuckles and turns his head down to look at the younger boy.

And Isak feels it. The warmth in his chest by just the simple glance. The tingle in his toes and the blush on his cheeks. He feels the safeness surrounding him and the demons slipping from his mind. He feels everything.

Everything, everything, everything.

He’s never felt this and now that he has, he never wants to feel anything else. This is better than any drug, any high he’s ever tasted.

“Can we just stay here like this?” Isak asks, completely serious, sincere and exposed, “Just like this. Forever.”

Even bites his lip, eyes glistening with an emotion that Isak can’t quite place. But he feels it touch his heart.

He curls his fingers around the fabric of Even’s sweatshirt and lets himself feel grounded here. Safe and sound.

“Like what?” Even asks.

“Here in our own little bubble. Just smoking and watching movies and…just being. Is that chill?”

Even nods, his lips lifting into a barely noticeable smile. “Yeah,” he whispers, “that’s chill.”

Isak tilts his head up then, silently asking for a kiss, which Even grants. He presses his lips to Isak’s the same way he always does – fully and passionately and so fucking beautiful.

And they stay there in their own personal bubble.

They stay there and kiss until the sun goes down, they stay there and kiss until Isak’s lips dry and his eyes become sleepy, they kiss until he can barely keep his eyes open, they kiss until he falls asleep soundly on Even’s chest.

And he feels everything.

_Everything, everything, everything._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys aren't getting sick of the slow burn yet! I know it can be frustrating. Hahaha. But for this story, it's also necessary. Hopefully, you guys aren't getting too restless and will hang on a little longer! The next few chapters...things get a little crazy. And Even and Isak grow even closer.
> 
> Let me know what you're thinking and feeling. Comments are everything <3.


	22. Back to Nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is still with me on this journey <3.
> 
> This chapter is a little short but no worries! The next few are pretty long.
> 
> .
> 
> Jenn is my awesome editor who is so fast it's ridiculous :)
> 
> Enjoy!

_._

 

_._

 

_._

 

_"Hearts are fragile things,_

_That's why you have to be so careful."_

 

_......_

 

The first thing Isak feels is Even’s eyes on him – stronger than any sunlight could ever be. Even’s breath touches his face and Isak smiles.

“Good morning,” Isak whispers, turning his head slightly into the pillow to hide his morning breath.

Even chuckles, “Good morning.”

When Isak opens his eyes, blinking the sleep from them, Even’s smile is still in place. He notices two cups of coffee resting on the bedside table.

“How long have you been up?” Isak asks, rubbing his eyes and sitting up.

Even always tries to be careful and quiet in the mornings. He figured out quickly that mornings are definitely not Isak’s thing.

Even follows suit, “Just an hour or so. You’ve been snoring and your phone has been going crazy.”

Isak snorts, rolling his eyes and flipping Even off with one hand as he reaches for his phone with the other.

His eyes widen when he sees exactly why his phone has been going crazy.

_23 text messages._

All from Eva.

“Fuck,” Isak scrolls through the texts frantically.

This isn’t okay.

Isak can’t avoid her anymore. Not when she’s like this. Isak knows this feeling. He can tell from just her texts that she’s lost right now. She’s craving an escape that she clearly can’t find. It makes his guts churn painfully.

“What is it?”

“It’s Eva,” Isak says, already tossing the blankets off him, searching for his clothes.

“Is she okay?” Even asks – so caring, so sweet.

Isak shakes his head, “No, I don’t think so. She wants me to meet her at the school. I’ve been worried about her. I’m going to go.”

He slips his jeans on frantically before shooting a quick text to his friend, letting her know he’s coming.

Even’s quiet for a beat before he speaks, “You’re a good friend.”

Isak chuckles, glancing over at him, his eyes so sincere it breaks Isak’s heart. If he only knew.

If he only knew that Isak is the only reason Eva’s in this position. If he only knew that Isak’s path left nothing but destruction and hurt – especially for the people he loved.

“Debatable.”

Even huffs out a laugh, “You’re always selling yourself short.”

Instead of answering, Isak moves forward, climbing onto the bed and crawling over to the blonde. He presses a smiley kiss to his lips. Even tastes like toothpaste and coffee.

Isak is getting used to goodbye kisses.

“I’ll see you later,” Isak says into the kiss.

“Okay,” Even smiles.

.

.

.

As soon as Isak approaches Eva, he can tell something’s wrong. Something more than usual. She can’t stay still; her eyes are bouncing around frantically as she tries to look anywhere but at Isak.

He spots her on the side of the building – no one else in sight.

She’s lost more weight, clothes torn and ragged, hair knotted, skin pale and eyes desperate.

She’s biting her lip and twirling her fingers together. She looks nervous and scared and like it’s taking everything in her not to cry.

“Eva,” Isak breaths out as soon as he’s close enough. “Are you okay?”

His question is pointless. It’s obvious that she’s not anywhere near being okay.

However, she nods. She picks at the dry skin of her lips and looks down. Her voice is rough and scratchy, “Yeah, yeah, I just – “

Isak takes another step closer. His hands shake but he doesn’t let that stop him from reaching out and placing one on her shoulder. He feels her too-prominent bones and shivers. Her skin is cold.

He can’t stand seeing her like this.

“Eva, just talk to me. Look at me. What the fuck is going on?” He says desperately.

She does. She looks up and blinks her eyes quickly – tears beginning to fall and catch on her lashes. Her lip quivers.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Isak.”

“What?” Isak asks in confusion. He’s the one that should be apologizing. He should be down on his knees begging for his friend’s forgiveness. He did this to her. “What are you sorry for?”

Eva lets out a loud sob and she clenches her eyes shut tightly.

“I didn’t want to. I really didn’t want to but…I can’t – I just couldn’t –”

That’s when Isak sees him walking around the corner from behind the school – a cigarette between his lips that pull into a cocky smirk. Isak’s breath catches in the back of his throat. He looks back at Eva with hurt eyes.

She continues to shake, her words catching on her sobs, “I…I didn’t know what else to do. He wouldn’t give me anything, Isak. I’m so fucking sorry. I –”

Isak squeezes her shoulder, nodding calmly, not letting her finish. Her stare burns into his own – eyes void of anything but need and hunger.

And he gets it.

Chris wouldn’t give her any drugs unless she got Isak to come here. He knows Chris’ tricks. He’s been played by them many times before.

Isak knows what it’s like when the need gets to be too much. When you can’t think about anything but the drugs, anything but the blissful escape that follows. Eva’s hooked and there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

He’s done horrible things for drugs. He’s hurt and lied and stolen. He’s begged and pleaded and screamed and scratched until he got what he wanted, what he needed.

Isak feels his own tears begin to form, matching Eva’s own.

“No, _I’m_ sorry, Eva. I’m so sorry that I did this to you.”

He moves his hand from her shoulder to cup the side of her face. Her cheek is tear-stained and sunken in beneath his palm.

Eva tilts her head, leaning into the touch. She wraps her skinny fingers around his wrist as another sob escapes her.

“You didn’t do anything,” she says back quietly. “I did this to myself.”

And then Chris is there. He places a hand on Eva’s shoulder causing Isak to snap his eyes up.

 _Don’t fucking touch her,_ Isak wants to shout.

He stays quiet though. His words caught in his throat.

“Aww,” Chris taunts with a wicked smirk. “Isn’t this sweet. Best friends for life, huh? Here you go, Doll.”

Isak clenches his jaw, eyes narrowing. Then Chris is dangling a baggie in front of Eva’s face. Isak has never seen her move so fast. Her eyes widen and a spark flashes behind the tiredness, behind the desperation and sadness.

She’s found.

She reaches up and snatches it quickly. Her eyes meet Isak’s one more time.

She’s lost.

And then she’s gone. She walks away quickly and doesn’t look back.

Isak licks his lips, his mouth beginning to water at just the mere sight of that baggie, temptation pushing to the forefront of his mind.

“Long time no see, Party Boy.”

Isak cringes at the nickname. He’s disgusted by how familiar it is to both him and Chris.

He never wanted to admit it to himself but Isak actually grew fond of the nickname. It wasn’t because he liked Chris or anything. It was because Chris was just like him. Chris was someone with whom he could share this part of himself. He didn’t judge Isak or make him feel guilty. He was an asshole, sure. But he was an asshole who didn’t mind how much of a fuckup Isak was. Because he was a fuckup too.

Chris wasn’t too good for Isak. They were on the same level. Piece of shit addicts.

Isak always felt that everyone in his life deserved better. Except for Chris.

But now his skin crawls at the nickname.

_Party Boy._

He wants to forget that part of himself.

Isak doesn’t meet the other boy’s eyes. He stares at the concrete of the ground and shoves his hands away in his pockets.

“What the fuck do you want, Chris?”

Chris laughs loudly, harsh to Isak’s ears, smoke hits Isak’s face and it makes him turn away.

“I think you know what I fucking want, Isak. You owe me.”

Isak shakes his head in disbelief, finally lifting his eyes to meet Chris’. They’re just as dangerous and cynical as ever.

“What are you talking about?” Isak asks. “The free drugs you gave me? I never asked for that shit. You always just gave them to me.”

Chris tosses his smoke to the ground, stomping on it, and smiling.

“Everyone has to pay eventually. Didn’t anyone ever teach you that nothing in this world is free?”

He takes a step forward, Isak takes a step back.

He swallows thickly and tries to settle his nerves. This is new. Isak has always been on edge with Chris. He was unpredictable and set Isak’s teeth on edge. But that was mostly due to the fact that Chris made him feel things he tried his hardest to hide from. He fed his addiction and touched Isak in ways that were wrong. But Isak has never been genuinely _afraid_ of Chris. Now, something about the wicked glint in his eyes – desperate and demanding – makes Isak’s heart race. Something is wrong here. So, so wrong.

“I…” Isak’s voice shakes and he feels so fucking weak and pathetic as Chris’ smirk grows. “I don’t do that anymore.”

Chris’ eyes roll, scoffing. He takes one more step forward, Isak taking one more back, his back suddenly hitting the brick wall behind him.

His fingers dig into the roughness of the brick and he feels the air around him grow heavy.

“Still with this?” Chris asks. “Who the fuck are you kidding, Isak? You meet Golden Boy and you’re suddenly not a junkie? Stop kidding yourself. The sooner you accept that the better.”

Isak grits his teeth.

He doesn’t want Chris talking about Even, he doesn’t want him _thinking_ about Even.

He can’t break. Not like this. Not so soon. He isn’t ready yet.

He lets images of Even fill his mind. His laugh, his strength, his beauty.

_You don’t give yourself enough credit._

“You don’t know shit, Chris,” Isak spits back.

Chris smirks, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair, and takes another step closer. So close that Isak can feel the heat rolling off the older boy, close enough to smell the smoke on his breath, close enough that their noses are almost touching.

Isak shakes from head to toe. He’s not fighting the sickness anymore. He’s just scared. He’s just fucking scared.

“Don’t I?” Chris asks, raising an eyebrow, his words sounding amused. “I know I was the one who took care of you when you needed to sniff your problems away. I know how prettily you moan when you’re getting fucked like the _faggot_ that you are.”

Chris leans forward completely now. His hands press against the wall behind Isak on either side of his face. His nose finally touches Isak’s and his lips are mere centimeters away.

Isak wants to cry. Each one of Chris’ words is like a knife to his heart. Everything he’s tried to bury for these past few weeks. Something he wants to forget, something he _needs_ to forget. Something Even made him feel like he could move past.

He doesn’t feel everything now.

He feels fear.

He feels weakness.

He feels disgust.

He feels nothing.

_Nothing, nothing, nothing._

“Come on, Party Boy.”

And suddenly Isak can’t breathe. He feels the blood drain from his face and his breathing begins to quicken as he tries to catch it even though it seems to be getting further and further away from him.

He feels trapped here, caged in with nowhere to run.

_It’s okay, Angel. I’ll take care of you._

Isak can’t breathe. He can’t fucking breathe. His eyes clench shut and a sob begins to form in is throat.

He’s not a little boy anymore – helpless and unprotected.

But he’s never felt more helpless.

_Shh, shh, Angel. Don’t cry. Uncle Lee’s got you._

Isak somehow manages to gather enough strength to bring his hands up, placing them against Chris’ chest, and pushes as hard as he possibly can. He listens as Chris stumbles back a few steps.

“What the fuck, Valtersen!”

“Don’t _fucking_ touch me!” Isak screams.

He opens his eyes to see Chris’ eyes widen in shock. Isak’s sure Chris has never seen Isak like this. He usually keeps everything bottled inside. He usually just washes his sadness down with a bottle of vodka and snorts his anger away with a line.

Chris holds his hands up in surrender, he takes a step back, he’s startled as he replies, “Whoa, whoa, calm down man. I wasn’t gonna do anything, alright?”

_Not alright._

Isak’s chest is still heaving, his mind filling with memories and pictures and everything that makes him want the world to just stop.

He moves forward and this time when he pushes Chris, he pushes him hard enough to knock the older boy to the ground. He lands with a painful sounding groan.

“Fuck!”

Isak doesn’t even look back towards the other boy as he begins to run. He takes comfort in the cold air that burns his face, causing him pain and reminding him that he’s alive, and he begs his lungs to start working again.

He runs and runs and runs – his legs begin to burn but he doesn’t stop.

Everything in his mind is screaming –

_Faggot._

_Junkie._

_Liar._

It isn’t until he reaches his destination that he realizes where he decided to go. The decision wasn’t conscious or rational. But here he is, outside Even’s building. The place he seems to end up the most, nowadays.

_Even._

_Even._

_Even._

.

As soon as the door opens, Isak pushes his way in.

He doesn’t give Even time to react. He doesn’t even look at his face as he flies forward, he kicks the door shut behind him and crashes his lips to Even’s. Their teeth clash and it’s sloppy. Even lets out a startled noise and his hands move up to grip Isak’s waist and steady him.

Isak keeps pushing and pushing and pushing until they reach the couch. He’s not so much kissing the blonde as he is forcefully pushing his lips and nose and body against him, so Even is forced to stumble backwards.

Even’s knees hit the armrest of the couch which causes him to fall back. Isak follows suit and bounces on top of him with a groan.

When Isak begins to slip his tongue into Even’s mouth, Even finally reacts more forcefully – he places his hands on Isak’s shoulders and pushes hard enough for Isak to be forced back.

Isak opens his eyes to find Even’s confused and worried. His lips are red and his cheeks are flushed.

“Isak,” Even says, breathless, “what are you doing? What’s wrong?”

Isak shakes his head, letting his eyes fall shut again, he can’t. He can’t talk now. He can’t stand Even’s understanding words and unbelievable patience. He can’t handle it. He just wants to run. He just wants to forget.

He moves to bring his lips back to Even’s. He curls his fingers into his silky hair and pulls. He must pull a little too hard because Even lets out a painful sounding groan. Isak doesn’t let it stop him though. He pushes his face and lips harder against the older boy’s.

_Make it go away._

_Please, please, just make it go away._

“Isak, Isak,” Even mumbles against his lips. “Stop. Please stop.”

And at those words, Isak finally pulls away – breathing hard and clenching his eyes shut painfully. He doesn’t want to meet Even’s eyes, seeing the pain and disgust there, yet he wants to be comforted by them at the same time.

He can feel his heart pounding against his chest and he can feel Even’s own, matching the pace.

“Please,” Isak whispers shakily.

“Isak,” Even says breathlessly. “Talk to me. What’s going on? Is Eva okay?”

Isak lets out a sob. His hands move from Even’s hair to his shirt – squeezing so tightly that his knuckles begin to burn.

Even’s hands cup Isak’s heated face and he hates how he just wants to melt into the touch.

“Please,” Isak repeats. “Please just help me. I just want to forget.”

“I don’t understand.”

Isak opens his eyes. Even is staring at him so softly, brows pulled down in concern.

“You can fuck me,” Isak says shakily. “Can you please just fuck me? I want it, I really do, I just want you to fuck me and make me forget. Okay? I need it. I just really, really –”

“Woah, woah, Isak,” Even cuts him off. “Isak, it’s okay just breathe. Just breathe.”

It’s not until Even says the words that Isak realizes his words are catching in his throat and his breath is coming too fast.

“Isak,” Even says softly, his thumbs begin to move gently across Isak’s cheeks, catching the tears that fall, “it’s alright, just breathe. You’re okay here. You’re safe here.”

_Safe._

_He’s safe here._

_He’s never been safe anywhere. But here, here he’s fucking safe. In Even’s arms, he’s safe._

_He’s safe._

He lets his arms give away and lands heavily on Even’s chest. He’s comforted in the way it moves up and down shallowly, his heartbeat against his ear.

Even runs his fingers through Isak’s hair comfortingly, letting Isak catch his breath.

Isak doesn’t know how much time passes until he speaks again, his voice rough and his breath still ragged, “What do you want from me?”

A beat passes. And another.

Then another.

He’s sure Even didn’t hear him.

But then he replies, “What?”

Isak turns his head, pushing his face into the fabric of Even’s shirt, breathing deeply and feeling his muscles relax as he greedily eats up Even’s sweet scent.

“Everyone always seems to want something from me,” Isak says. “And…you’ve been so good to me. No one’s ever been so good to me. I’m a fucking mess.” Isak lets out a pained chuckle at the understatement. “I just can’t figure out why you’re so good to me. I have nothing left to give.”

Even’s hands pause their movement in Isak’s hair.

Isak is scared he’s stepped over a line.

But Even replies, “I don’t want anything from you, Isak. I don’t want you to _give_ me anything. I just want _you_. Just you.”

Isak tilts his head up – mind filled with doubt.

“Yeah?”

Even nods, no lies in sight, “Yeah.”

Isak doesn’t think about it. He doesn’t question it or doubt it or talk himself into a spiral.

He simply leans up, pressing his lips to Even’s, softer this time – like the kisses Even usually gives him. Kisses that soothe instead of punish. Kisses that make Isak’s stomach flip and his toes curl. Kisses that make Isak feel like nothing has ever before.

“Thank you,” he whispers, as he pulls away and places his head back on Even’s chest.

It’s quiet for a while. No noise but the sound of the boys’ unsteady breathing and matching heartbeats. Even’s fingers continue to run through Isak’s hair and twirl his curls.

They stay like this until Isak grows sleepy. His eyes falling shut without his permission, before he snaps them open.

Even must notice the way Isak is trying to keep himself awake because he chuckles lightly.

“You can sleep,” he says. “I don’t mind. I’m kind of tired too.”

Isak nods, too tired to even talk, his body and mind both needing to rest.

Before he drifts fully asleep though, he utters a sentence he never thought he would.

Something he’s never fully admitted. Something he’s never, ever said out loud. Something trapped somewhere inside of him, mixed in with all the other secrets and lies, mixed with all the shame and disgust, something included in the deep darkness that rests in every single part of him.

“I’m fucked up,” he says – nuzzling deeper into Even’s chest, words slightly slurred from tiredness. “I’m a fucked up drug addict and I’m broken. Everyone deserves better. _You_ deserve better.”

And his mind finally drifts to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave me some love (or hate) in the comments. You guys and your support and feedback keep this story going <3.


	23. The Feeling of Even

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> I'm not going to bore you with long beginning notes but a lot happens in this chapter and I'm excited to see what you guys think :)
> 
> As always thank you to Jenn who helps me fix my horrendous grammar and sometimes confusing writing <3
> 
> Other than that I'll see you at the bottom.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (Alternative chapter title: You're Beautiful, too.)

_._

 

_._

 

_._

_"I think it’s brave to try and be happy.”_

_......_

 

Isak has been standing here for at least twenty minutes now. Just standing and staring blankly at the chipped wood of Lea’s bedroom door. He hates this feeling. This feeling of hesitation. The unsureness of it all.

He’s never hesitated to run to Lea. He’s never hesitated to go to her room or invite her into his so they could talk, so they could comfort, so they could just be them.

He’d felt his good mood fade as soon as he stepped into the house. Thankfully, his father had already left for work and Isak could hear Anita’s loud snores from the bedroom.

Today, for the third morning in a row, he woke up in Even’s bed with a smile and a sigh. He realized then just how _right_ it was starting to feel to be there first thing.

He was oddly calm despite the words he had whispered the night before. A secret that echoed in his head day after day but never passed his lips.

_I’m a fucked-up drug addict._

It was risky to say and he’s not sure he would have said it if he was in his right mind – not frazzled and worked up from everything that had happened with Chris. But he knew that his secret was safe with Even.

He doesn’t exactly know why, or what it is about this boy, or when it started to happen. The formation of trust between the boys. But it did. Slowly and surely. With open smiles and comforting words and beautiful honest eyes. It happened.

And Isak finds himself less and less afraid to live with each passing day. All thanks to Even.

This morning when Isak rolled out of bed and made his way to the kitchen, Even was cooking as usual – smiling and singing along to the shitty pop music on the radio.

It smelled like pancakes and cinnamon and _home_.

Isak never knew what it meant to be touch-starved until then. He wanted to move closer and wrap his arms around the older boy. He wanted to turn his head and press his lips delicately to Even’s.

Once Even noticed him there, he turned and smiled and told him good morning. His smile was so contagious that Isak just had to smile back.

Even the conversation that followed was simple and light despite the heaviness of the topic. Even always makes it easier for Isak to speak his mind –

_“Look, Even, about what I said last night…”_

_“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”_

_“I just…it kind of just slipped out. I’ve never said it out loud.”_

_“Well, is it true?”_

_“I don’t know…I guess I feel like I need it sometimes.”_

_“Need it for what, Isak?”_

_“To forget.”_

_“Forget what?”_

_“Everything.”_

And that was that. Even let the subject go for now, sensing that Isak wasn’t ready to go on. He just smiled softly, caringly. And that was that.

Then, with a smirk, he made some corny joke about how good his breakfast was going to be. But as he backed up, he managed to trip over a chair. The look on Even’s face as he was falling had Isak laughing for a good thirty minutes afterwards.

Over breakfast, Isak asked Even what he should do about Lea. It was killing him. It was killing Isak that she was locking herself away where Isak couldn’t reach her. He already couldn’t reach his mamma, his pappa, he couldn’t lose her too. She couldn’t afford to lose herself.

_“Pull her out of it, Isak. Just like she’s done for you. Let her know that there are options.”_

That is what brings Isak here – standing outside of his sister’s door being a complete chicken shit.

He takes a few deeps breaths, trying to settle his shaking nerves.

But as soon as he raises his hand to knock – the door opens.

Lea stands there with wide yet sleepy eyes as if she just woke up. Her blond curls matted messily to her head.

Lea never sleeps in. Not even on weekends. Another new development it seems.

She jumps back a little, slightly startled.

“What the fuck, Isak!” she says, bringing a hand to her chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”

Isak clears his throat, “Sorry.”

“What the fuck are you doing here anyway?” Her eyes narrow. “Shouldn’t you be off somewhere ignoring your problems and forgetting that people other than you exist?”

Lea’s smile is fake-sugar-sweet with a sarcastic edge.

Isak forces himself to stay strong. He digs his fingernails into his palms lightly, letting himself become centered and grounded from the slight pain, but doesn’t let the sting of the words show on his face.

He doesn’t back down.

He needs to do this. He wants to do this.

“I want to talk to you.”

Lea snorts, her eyes reaching the ceiling, “Well, we can’t always get what we want, can we?”

Already knowing what Lea’s next move is, Isak shoves his foot in the way of the closing door. His fingers wrap around the edge of the wood.

“Isak, stop!” Lea yells. “Get the fuck out.”

She keeps pushing, trying to wear Isak out, overpower him.

But he doesn’t let up – he pushes harder until Lea is forced to stumble back as the door swings fully open. Isak doesn’t like having to play this game. He’s never liked manipulating Lea, lying to her, forcing her into anything she didn’t want to do. So, he didn’t. She didn’t deserve that shit.

But extreme circumstances call for extreme actions, he supposes.

“Let me rephrase,” Isak says in a breathless huff. “I’m going to talk and you’re _going_ to listen, alright?”

“Fuck you!” Lea snaps. “Get out or I’m going to –”

“What?” Isak cuts her off with a glare. “Tell mom or dad on me? Yeah, good fucking luck with that one. Mom’s knocked out and dad isn’t going to be home until tonight…probably wasted out of his mind.”

Isak watches as pain flashes in her eyes. But he can’t really bring himself to completely regret his words. He needs to do this. He needs to make her listen to him. He needs to protect her from herself – just like she’s done a million times over for him.

He watches his baby sister deflate. Her shoulders slump and her lips pull down into a heartbreaking frown.

“Fuck you,” she says weakly, moving to sit at the edge of her too-small bed.

Lea has had the same twin bed since she was ten. She never complained, but she deserved better. So much better.

A better mom.

A better dad.

A better brother.

Lea’s eyes remain down, focusing intently on her lap, as Isak makes his way towards her. When he sits down next to her, she doesn’t flinch or tell him to fuck off. He takes this as a good sign.

“Lea, I –”Isak pauses, not really knowing how to continue.

He knows he should have prepared more for this but he’s never really been good at things like that. Preparation, understanding his feelings, communication.

Lea stays quiet. She doesn’t move. She twirls her fingers in her lap again and again.

She looks…defeated. Isak can tell that she doesn’t want to fight anymore. She doesn’t want her defenses up. Especially, when it comes to Isak – her big brother, her protector, her only real friend. Someone who knows her inside and out.

Isak knows how exhausting it is to keep everything inside, locked away where no one can see, having walls up so no one can help.

It sucks everything out of you, until there’s nothing left.

Isak takes a deep breath, moving a bit closer to his sister, but not reaching out to comfort her yet.

“I’m sorry,” he says with all the honesty he can muster. “I’m so fucking sorry that I made you feel like you had to hide from me. I’m so sorry that I made you feel like I was telling you how to feel…I’m so fucking sorry that I kind of was. You have to know that I just want to protect you. I…I never want to tell you who you have to be. I just don’t want you to end up like _me_.”

Isak holds his breath as he waits for her reply. Her breathing is shallow and hurried. Her hands pause in her lap.

And after what seems like a century, she tilts her head slightly towards her brother.

Her sleepy green eyes are glazed over with unshed tears, her small bottom lip quivering just slightly.

She nods, letting out a small breath, “I know.”

Isak continues as he brings his fingers up to touch her cheek lightly, swiping a thumb below her eye as a tear begins to fall.

“And no matter how old you get, how much time passes, you’ll always be my baby sister. And I’m always going to want to protect you.”

A small sob escapes Lea’s lips as more tears begin to fall, “I know.”

“And…we’ll get mom help, okay? I know someone who deals with this kind of stuff too. Mental illness. We’ll get mamma help without pappa’s approval or help. We don’t need it. She’s ours to protect too, okay?”

As the words leave his lips, it’s like a heavy weight lifting off his shoulders. He was always so helpless before – researching but never acting, hoping but never doing, being stuck under Tom’s thumb.

But Even is showing him that it doesn’t have to be that way. Even is living breathing proof that things can get better. No matter how hard it will be getting there.

Lea’s eyes widen, “Really?”

Isak nods, “Really.”

Lea launches forward at that, practically hurling herself at her brother, wrapping her arms tightly around him – causing him to grab her waist to steady her and let out a small chuckle. He lets his eyes fall shut as he squeezes his sister back. It’s been so long since she’s hugged him. He’s needed this for so long. His sister back, his family.

“Thank you,” she mumbles into his shoulder.

“For what?”

“Just…” she pulls back, wiping away her tears quickly, “thank you for trying. For taking care of me. _For_ being _you_. I don’t think you’re so bad.”

Isak smiles lightly – his chest filling with such soft love. No one’s ever known the real Isak except Lea. She knows more about him than anyone. The dark parts, the scary parts, the hidden parts. And she still loves him. Isak will never know how he got so lucky getting her for a sister.

“And _I’m_ sorry.”

Isak’s brows knit together, “Sorry for what? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

Lea shakes her head. “No, but, I’m sorry that no one was there to protect you,” she trails off in a whisper.

And even though Isak’s heart clenches and his stomach flips and his head aches. Even though every single cell in his body is telling him to get out, run away, disappear.

He doesn’t.

He can’t. Not when Lea’s eyes are so open, her words so sincere as she pokes at Isak’s carefully hidden secrets.

Isak smiles sweetly, pushing down his anxiety, “I had you.”

Lea’s smile matches his own.

“I love you, Lea.”

“I love you too, ass face.”

Isak chuckles, “Impossible.”

.

.

.

It’s mid-afternoon when Jonas texts him. Isak is sitting on his bed, joint burning out between his fingers, a goofy smile on his face.

He can’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed, this comfortable in his own house. It’s nothing like he feels at Even’s apartment. Not even remotely close, but it’s something, it’s progress.

The air is just a little lighter here now. A weight has been lifted from his chest after his talk with Lea. He can still hear his mom’s quiet snores from a few rooms over, but it’s okay.

It’s okay because he meant what he told his sister. They’re going to get their mamma help – no matter what. Isak can take the consequences.

He’s never felt so sure about a decision in his life. It makes him feel grounded, settled. Even though this is going to be one of the riskiest and most dangerous things he’s done in this family. He’s ready. He’s peaceful.

He feels the broken pieces in his chest begin to shift into place and to steady.

Isak’s never been good at making decisions – always too lost in his own haze of sadness, of parties and sex and drugs. A scared little boy, with dark secrets, just looking for any way to escape.

With this choice though, he feels like he’s finally doing something. Something real. Something important. Something to help and not hurt.

He’s not quite sure how he’s going to accomplish it yet but he knows he’s going to. He’s not going to back out now.

And he can take anything that Tom has to dish out to him.

He’s dealt with much, much worse.

Isak rolls lazily onto his side and grabs his phone – flicking his screen on.

 **Jonas:** _wanna chill? Me and the boys are going to the skate park. Even is coming too._

 **Isak:** _be there in ten_

.

The skate park is pretty empty by the time Isak arrives. Jonas loves to go skating on the weekdays instead of weekends because of this exact reason. No crowds.

Isak spots Even right away – as if his eyes can’t help but look for him first, find him as quickly as possible.

Even’s sitting on the other side of the skate park, eyes alight with excitement as he watches Jonas and Mahdi drop in on their skateboards. He looks so fucking happy. A certain light in his eyes, no matter where he is or what he’s doing. He seems content. Always so content.

It used to annoy Isak. It used to make his insides crawl with jealousy and anger – wanting to knock that look of happiness right off the other boy’s face. A face that didn’t match the anger and hurt of his scars.

But now, Isak can’t stop his lips from turning upwards just by glancing at that look on Even’s face.

Even’s lips are pulled up into a wide smile, cheeks stained red, hair windblown messily. He’s wearing his jean jacket and everything about him is just so familiar to Isak now. A feeling that warms Isak’s insides so beautifully.

“Aye! Look who it is!” a voice breaks through Isak’s thoughts. He looks to his right to see an excited looking Magnus running towards him. “You’re finally here.”

Isak’s chuckle turns into a groan as Magnus practically throws his body into his own. Magnus wraps his arms around his friend tightly.

“Magnus,” Isak squeaks out. “You’re crushing me, dude.”

“Sorry, man.” He pulls back with a wide smile. “I just feel like we haven’t seen you in forever. I thought you died or some shit.”

Isak rolls his eyes. Magnus has always been a bit dramatic.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Isak laughs. “Well, I’m here now.”

Magnus throws his arm around Isak’s shoulders as they begin to walk. Jonas and Mahdi spot them first and let out some cheers and whistles in greeting. Like they’re genuinely happy to see him.

Isak really does love and appreciate his friends. He wishes he was better at showing it.

But that was the majority of Isak’s life – a lot of wishing and not much action.

When Even’s eyes finally meet his, the response his body has is instantaneous. His heartbeat picks up just a bit, a warmth spreads through his stomach, his chest feels a bit stronger – the pieces of it snapping more firmly into place.

Just from this boy’s crystal blue eyes, his blinding smile, his sweet expression.

“Hey,” Even greets as the boys approach him, smile still in place, “you skating?”

Before Isak can answer, Magnus lets out a loud obnoxious snort, hitting Isak on the back a little too hard.

“Isak?” Magnus laughs. “No way. Unless you want to see him break something like he did the last two times he tried.”

“Fuck off, Magnus.”

Magnus shrugs before picking up his board and wandering toward the others.

Isak’s eyes stay on Even’s. He licks his lips. Swallows thickly.

He feels so jittery and unsure here – out in the open with Even. It’s warm and comfortable and safe in the older boy’s apartment. But this is unknown territory. Sure, they all hang out in school but this is different somehow. It _feels_ different.

But as always – Even always seems to know how to push forward.

“So, not too good at the whole skating thing?”

Isak lets out a small chuckle, the bubble of anxiety in his chest popping, and he sits down with a heavy sigh next to Even.

Isak turns and notices that his red hat matches his red cheeks and it somehow manages to be…adorable.

He shrugs, “Jonas has tried to teach me a few times. Didn’t really work. The first time I broke my arm and the second time I broke my leg. I’ve learned my lesson.”

Even nods, a small smile playing on his lips, as he turns to watch the other boys.

“You do seem like the uncoordinated type.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“So,” Even continues, “how’d it go with your sister?”

Isak’s lips turn up automatically.

“It went well,” he says. “Like really, really well I think.”

Even looks back at him. His eyes shining with something that Isak can’t place. He raises his eyebrows.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, I told her…well, I told her we could get my mom help. No matter what my dad says.”

Even smiles wider than Isak’s ever seen. Eyes, soft and…proud.

“That’s amazing, Isak. Brave.”

Isak feels a deep blush begin to pool beneath the skin of his cheeks at the compliment. He looks down, trying to hide his smile.

Isak’s never felt brave. He’s never felt capable of anything but destruction really. But for some reason when Even utters the word, Isak feels like it could almost be true. That maybe – just maybe – he could be brave.

“Aye, Even!” Jonas breaks the moment, running up to the boys – out of breath, skateboard beneath his arm. “Magnus wants to know if you want to learn some tricks? He’s apparently dying to teach you. I think he might have a bit of a man crush on you.”

Even chuckles, “Alright. Let’s just hope I’m better than Isak,” turning just in time to see Isak flip him off.

Jonas laughs along, “Everyone is better than Isak.”

Isak flips his friend the bird as Even laughs, placing his hands on his knees with a loud sigh before pushing himself up.

“Alright,” Even smiles brightly. “First time for everything.”

Isak watches him walk away with a small smile. He can’t help it. It’s like Even is his own personal sun. Brightening his day, no matter what else is going on around him. No matter what turmoil is rattling inside of his body, his brain.

Jonas plops down beside him – a smile on his face. He adjusts his hat and turns his eyes to his friend.

There’s something shining there that Isak isn’t exactly sure that he likes. Something suggestive. Something curious and nosy. Jonas didn’t push when it came to certain things in his life – like family – but sometimes he just can’t help himself. He has to poke fun at the younger boy.

Isak’s eyes narrow, “What?”

Jonas’ smile widens, “No, nothing.”

Isak rolls his eyes, “Don’t start with me Jonas. I know that look. You’re about to say something stupid.”

Jonas chuckles as he tosses his board to the ground, placing his feet on it and beginning to roll it back and forth.

He looks forward – watching as Magnus begins to show Even how to drop in.

“Nothing,” Jonas replies. “Just…Even seems pretty cool, huh?”

Isak shrugs – melting inside as the sun touches the tops of Even’s lovely cheekbones, catching his eyelashes, illuminating his smile despite the chill in the air.

“Yeah,” he answers. “He’s cool.”

“You guys seem to be getting close.”

Isak feels Jonas’ stare – searching, questioning – he turns to him, a frown beginning to form on his lips.

“I mean…” Isak tries to find the words. He could admit it, that yes, they were getting close.

But then he’d always be wondering, always be on edge, always a little more paranoid than usual.

_Did Jonas know?_

_Did he think Even and Isak were…a thing now?_

_Was he trying to call Isak out? Make him admit it so he could hold it over his head?_

Rationally, Isak knew that wasn’t in Jonas’ nature. To be cruel or unforgiving. But Isak wasn’t a very rational person. Especially when it came to this. Nothing in his experience ever proved different.

“I guess,” he shrugs, deciding to play it as casual as possible.

But Jonas raises a thick eyebrow in suggestion and Isak feels his stomach begin to twist in familiar and unpleasant knots.

_He knows._

_He knows._

_He can’t fucking know._

Isak feels his walls building themselves back up – he’s not anywhere he feels safe – not at Even’s, not in Jonas’ room. He’s out in the open, so raw and exposed feeling. He feels cornered and suffocated even by this tiniest of things.

He begins to feel his throat tighten and his body shake. He has the urge to do something he hasn’t in a while – punch and hurt and bruise his pale skin.

_He can’t know._

Isak swallows thickly before replying, “Is there a fucking point to this conversation, Jonas?”

Jonas’ eyes widen, eyebrows raising to touch his dark curls.

Isak holds his breath waiting for his best friend’s answer.

“No, no, I…” he stutters out, obviously realizing he’s pushed too far. “I was just asking, dude. No big deal. It’s whatever. I think he’s a chill dude too.”

Isak nods, tersely. He wants to apologize. He wants to be a better friend, a better person. All of the things that Even makes him want to try to be. But he’s not ready. The pull in the back of his thoughts to fall into his old self, his hold habits, is strong. Too strong for his weak mind.

He’s not ready.

He’s just not ready yet.

He doesn’t know when he’ll be ready, if he ever will be.

So, he doesn’t reply. He leaves Jonas hanging. Keeping his defenses up and his aura unapproachable.

He sits on the outside – watching his friends laugh and skate and enjoy the day.

His chest feels hollow as he watches but he does anyway.

Because when the sunlight catches Even’s face just the right way – filled with laughter – it’s worth it.

.

.

.

The sun begins to set as Even and Isak walk back to Even’s place. It’s not really talked about – it’s become a given that Isak would be coming back to Even’s apartment. And Isak took such comfort in that fact. That Even didn’t mind him tagging along, that he actually wanted Isak to come back with him.

They walk side by side and Isak has to resist the urge to reach for Even’s hand. He wonders what it would be like. Holding someone’s hand out in public, holding a boy’s hand, letting people know that they care for each other. The thought is scary – terrifying, in fact. But it also fills Isak’s stomach with butterflies and…hope. Pure hope.

The only people he’s ever held hands with is Lea when they were younger and crossing the street, or his mother when she would sometimes walk him to school, when he was small and happy.

“So,” Even chuckles, side-eyeing Isak as they slowly walk home. “It turns out I’m much better than you at skateboarding.”

Isak smiles, “Well, like Jonas said, everyone is.”

They continue in a comfortable silence for a few blocks.

But then Even apparently has an idea. He stops short, causing Isak to stop just a few steps ahead and look back at the older boy questioningly.

“You tired?” Even asks, with that fucking smile of his.

That fucking smile that makes Isak’s heart sing. That makes him feel like he can conquer the whole damn world. That smile that makes his stomach flip in the stupidest of ways.

That smile that he… _loves_.

“Uhm, not particularly,” Isak answers.

“Good,” Even nods. “Let’s go somewhere then.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

.

It turns out anywhere is a random house, a few blocks in the opposite direction of Even’s place.

Even is currently kneeling in front of a small window trying to get the lock loose so they can get in.

“Okay, whose house is this again?” Isak asks – eyes darting around the yard and street behind him.

It’s cold and dark and an unsteady feeling begins to pool in the pit of his stomach.

“I told you it’s my aunt’s. She’s on vacation and said I could use the pool.”

“Why don’t you have a key then?”

Even huffs out a laugh, turning towards Isak as soon as the window finally pops open. “She forgot to leave an extra one. Why are you so skeptical?”

“I’m not!” Isak shakes his head vehemently. “It’s just weird.”

Even’s only reply is a roll of his eyes and, of course, a warm wide smile as he hops through the tiny window.

Isak sighs, taking one last glance around the road.

Sure, he might be a little skeptical. A little paranoid. A little on edge. But he also feels…excited. He can’t remember a time when he’s had this much fun. This much freedom. Not feeling weighed down by negativity and pain.

Maybe it’s his time to take this kind of risk.

A risk on happiness perhaps.

A risk with Even.

So, he follows after Even, who is already taking off his shirt, getting ready for a swim.

Isak’s eyes linger on his chest but only for a moment.

“We’re seriously going to go swimming without our clothes?” Isak asks as he hesitates to shed his own clothes.

He tries to keep his eyes focused on the ground as Even continues.

“Just our boxers. What’s wrong? You scared of messing up your hair or something?”

Isak snorts, “My hair? Does it look like I give a shit about my hair?”

Even regards the younger boy for a moment – eyes filled with false contemplation.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he nods, “must be something else.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Come on,” Even smiles. “Have a little fun for once in your life. Let go.”

And that smile is definitely Isak’s deciding factor. That fucking smile that makes Isak want to let go of absolutely everything holding him back.

He lets go –

He moves forward, wicked smile on his face, taking Even completely by surprise and pushes him into the pool.

“Fuck!”

Isak chuckles, not bothering to remove a single item of clothing, before jumping in after him.

“Well, that’s one way to let go,” Even huffs as he resurfaces.

His eyes are bright and filled with night-time mischief.

But it’s not the kind of mischief that sets Isak’s teeth on edge. It’s not the type of mischief that makes him feel small and scared. It’s a new kind. A kind that makes his heart feel alight with possibilities. A kind that makes him want to laugh and follow this night wherever it may take him.

Isak floats there silently – just staring – with just one thought echoing through his head.

Even is beautiful.

He’s so fucking beautiful.

His hair becomes darker as the water soaks it. A few strands hang and stick to his forehead messily. It drips from his lashes and chin, a few drops falling into his mouth as he licks his lips.

Even’s skin is almost fluorescent under the barely-there moonlight.

Even tilts his head, moving just a bit closer to Isak, “What?”

Isak swallows thickly as he feels his heartbeat pick up – sure and unsure all the same. His skin tingles, feeling hot despite the cool water.

His voice shakes but he speaks anyway, “You’re beautiful, too.”

For a few moments neither boy moves. The only sound is the small splash of the water and the tick of a clock somewhere far off. Isak holds his breath waiting for Even’s reply.

And then the smile reappears.

Even’s eyes fill with such joy that Isak can’t help but smile back in return.

And then Even is moving towards him with purpose, his intent clear, and Isak lets him. He lets the older boy press his lips firmly to his own, he lets him walk him backwards clumsily through the water, he lets him press his back against the rough wall of the pool and lets his warm hands come up and cup his face, oh so delicately.

It’s soft and slow at first – just light pressing kisses, they just _feel_ each other. Isak feels so safe and warm here in Even’s arms. He feels good. It feels so fucking good.

Isak’s legs are around Even’s waist – his covered chest pressed against Even’s bare one.

And this just feel so right. So right that it’s almost as if nothing in Isak’s life has been right until this very moment.

Isak feels Even’s thumb press against his chin softly – tilting his head for better access before pulling down with a little more effort, forcing his mouth open, and Isak lets his tongue slip in eagerly.

Isak lets out a soft moan, arching his back slightly as he feels himself begin to get more and more affected.

Even’s tongue presses to his own searchingly, sweetly, calmly.

But Isak isn’t in the mood for slow. He wants fast and fierce. It’s been so long since he’s been touched, been wanted like this.

And the thought of Even wanting him like this sets his body on fire, causes him to flush from head to toe. He wants Even. He wants him so badly.

He’s wanted him since the moment he laid eyes on him across the school yard. And he was done denying it. This is what he wants.

He wants Even.

So, he moves his hands up until he reaches Even’s hair – curling his fingers around the soaked strands he finds. He tries to push his body closer to Even’s, tries to move his lips faster, tries to get Even just as worked up as he’s becoming.

But Even keeps his movements slow. Too slow for Isak’s liking.

“Even,” Isak pants heavily, his lips moving against Even’s as he speaks heatedly, trying to keep them as close as humanly possible. “Come on, come on I – “

“Isak,” Even cuts him off, pulling back slightly, his eyes soft, yet determined in a way that makes Isak pause, “has anyone ever taken care of you?”

Isak blinks.

And blinks again.

He opens his mouth to reply but...he can’t.

He doesn’t know what to say to that.

He’s never really thought about it.

Sexuality has always been a sensitive subject with Isak. It’s either been quick fucks in dark rooms, hidden secrets, faces uncomfortably buried in pillows. Or it’s been against a dirty brick wall, in a filthy back alley.

Or it’s been with girls – no emotion, no real pleasure, nothing but…emptiness.

So, has he ever been taken care of? Probably not the way Even means. Isak can see the question reflected deep in his eyes. This isn’t about orgasms or guys or sexuality.

This is something _softer_.

Something simple.

Isak frowns and shakes his head hesitantly.

He doesn’t want to lie. But he’s scared. He’s never let himself go like this. He’s never let himself be this vulnerable with another human being.

Especially not a boy, not like this.

And definitely not a boy like Even. A boy with all the light in the world inside him, a boy that deserves so much more than Isak has to offer.

Even nods, like he knew the whole time, like he expected no other answer but this one.

“Let me,” Even whispers, the sound sending a shiver down Isak’s spine as the knots in his stomach twist tighter in the most magnificent of ways. “Let me take care of you, baby. Please.”

Even’s face is completely open to him. Isak takes in everything - the beauty reflected in those deep blues, the weight of himself on Even as he supports him, the weightlessness he feels in the water.

He takes in the barely visible freckles scattered across Even’s nose, the tiny scar in between his eyebrows, the silly little heart shaped beauty mark next to his eye, the subtle way his chin dips inward at the middle.

_He’s so fucking beautiful._

Even’s breathing is shallow and sweet and sweeps over Isak’s face.

Isak feels his body begin to shiver all over, his fingers uncurl from Even’s hair and move to his back, he pushes his fingertips into the soft skin there, probably hard enough to leave bruises. But Even doesn’t complain.

He simply lets Isak press them there, lets Isak shift until he is nuzzling the skin of Even’s neck, lets Isak breathe steadily, the whole time waiting oh-so patiently for Isak’s answer.

Isak feels his lashes slide over Even’s skin and sighs - feeling so comforted, so precious, so cherished in his arms.

Isak already knows what his answer is. He thinks he may have known since the second he followed Even into the pool house – eager and hypnotized.

He wants to be taken care of. He isn’t sure exactly what that means to Even but he knows it’s something deeper than this. Something deeper than sex, something deeper than gay or straight.

Finally, Isak nods and presses his face harder into the skin of the other boy’s neck – he smells fresh and clean and beautiful.

“Please,” Isak whispers back. “Yes, please.”

So, Even does.

He reaches below the water, reaching beneath Isak’s shirt, teasing the skin of his stomach lightly and leaving goose-bumps before slipping beneath the waistband of Isak’s pants, under his boxers, and takes Isak in his hand, causing the younger boy to moan and begin to grow harder. Even is gentle and takes his time and this is completely new territory for Isak. But he goes with it. He lets himself be completely taken over by it.

It’s good.

It’s so goddamn good that Isak has to grit his teeth against it. He tries to slow his mind down, tries to slow his body down, but there’s no use. Not when Even is tearing him apart at the seams like this.

He’s never felt this...cared for.

Especially not while doing this. He’s used to rough and fast. He’s used to empty and hollow.

But this...this means something.

He begins to move his hips in slow circles, fucking Even’s fist slowly as everything begins to build. He licks Even’s wet skin and hears himself making small whimpering sounds that he can’t seem to control, that he can’t seem to be embarrassed by.

Even talks him through everything. Comforting him with small shushes and whispering things like –

_I’ve got you, baby._

_Just let go._

_Let me take care of you._

And he does. He takes care of Isak, brings him such pleasure.

Soon Isak is desperate to come – his head thrown back as the heat begins to pool in the pit of his stomach, his hips moving erratically with Even’s more measured hand movements, his body bursts into flames as Even’s lips touch the skin of his shoulder, sucking lightly, but hard enough to leave a small purple mark. Territorial. Claiming. Isak can feel it.

Isak can feel Even’s intention of the mark practically leaking through his skin, into his bloodstream.

And it makes him groan louder, move faster, push harder.

“Fuck, Even. Please, please, _please._ ”

He doesn’t know what he’s begging for at this point.

But Even gives it to him anyway.

“It’s okay,” Even says lowly.

Isak moves his head down and locks eyes with him – Even’s pupils are blown and his lips are parted as he breathes heavily

“Come. Come for me. Let me see you let go, let me see how good it feels,” he tells him.

That pushes Isak over the edge – he lets go. His orgasm hitting him so hard that he has to grip Even harder, hard enough to ground himself, to keep himself from slipping beneath the surface of the water. But Even holds him tightly. His eyes never move from Even’s as his body is completely rocked. His mouth falls open but no noise escapes. The scream of pleasure getting stuck at the back of his throat.

Isak’s body feels like jello when he finally feels himself come back to reality. He’s panting and flushed everywhere. He lets his head fall forward where he leaves a matching purple mark on Even’s shoulder.

Claiming.

Even chuckles at the feeling and Isak smiles lightly against the skin there.

He stays there for a while, panting and satisfied in Even’s arms. It isn’t until his body stops shaking and his stomach begins to cool that he realizes that some of the water on Even’s shoulder isn’t from the pool but rather from Isak’s eyes.

He really had let go of everything.

“Thank you,” Isak whispers when he feels strong enough to finally speak.

There is a smile in Even's voice as he replies, “My pleasure.”

Isak’s eyes fall closed. He lets himself hold and be held. He lets himself give and take. He lets himself…be.

And he’s never been happier in his whole life.

In fact, he isn’t sure he’s ever really felt true happiness until this moment. Nothing has ever compared to this feeling.

This feeling of finally being somewhere he belongs. A feeling of finally fitting somewhere so perfectly.

This feeling of wholeness.

The feeling of _happiness._

The feeling of _Even._

.

.

.

_Isak sits in the middle of his bed – arms wrapped tightly around his thin legs, body shivering, and he feels so small. So, so small._

_There’s yelling outside his door. His dad’s voice is loud and filled with rage. Isak can hear dishes smashing and Uncle Lee yelling back at his father._

_Isak’s arms are sore with bruises tonight – Uncle Lee got a little too rough this time. His backside hurts and his cheeks are stained with tears._

_The thing was…he saw._

_His father._

_Tom came home from work early. Isak heard him. He always hears him come home. Isak is always alert at home. Always listening for when something goes wrong, like his dad coming home a little too drunk or his mom starting to get a little too loud._

_Isak heard him come in. Uncle Lee didn’t. He was too busy. Heavy on top of the small boy – groaning lowly, large hands gripping Isak’s tiny arms way too tightly, pushing them into the mattress above his head._

_Isak’s eyes were clenched tightly shut as he waited it out. Waited for it to be over._

_But his dad was home now and Isak didn’t say anything – he didn’t want to. And he prayed. He prayed for the first time in his entire life. Despite his mom always reading and quoting the bible, Isak had never picked up on her beliefs. But now – he prayed to a god he didn’t believe in._

_He prayed that his father would come into his room and make this stop._

_And whether it was the work of god or not – it happened. It happened so quickly._

_Tom opened the door – whether it was to just check on Isak or yell at him for no particular reason – Isak would never know._

_Uncle Lee fumbled off of his nephew clumsily, stuffing himself back into his sleep pants, and turning around to face his brother._

_Isak didn’t open his eyes, he didn’t move, leaving his bottom half bare and his arms flat against the bed._

_For a few minutes, there was no sound. Isak couldn’t hear anything but his own shallow breathing._

_And then his father was screaming – he was screaming louder than Isak had ever heard him scream. He dragged Uncle Lee out of the room – leaving Isak all alone. His tears continued to fall as he sat up, he winced at the pain that it caused, and pulled his pants up._

_He doesn’t know how much time passes. Minutes, hours. But eventually the screaming dies down and Isak still hasn’t moved, the blanket of darkness of his room making him feel as safe as it possible can - his eyes droop with sleepiness – dry and all cried out._

_He doesn’t even look up when his father enters the room. Isak closed his eyes against the harsh light of the hallway._

_Tom sighs loudly but doesn’t say anything for a long time._

_When Isak finally looks up, his father is leaning against the door, eyes shut tightly, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration._

_When he speaks – there is nothing in his voice that comforts his son. No compassion. No comfort. Just…dullness. No emotions attached._

_His father has never been the affectionate type. He didn’t hug his children often and worked way too much – Isak suspected just to avoid time with his children and family as it slowly fell apart._

_But naïve little Isak expected a little something more. Maybe not a hug, maybe not a kiss, but_ something. _Anything to comfort the small boy just slightly. With his words, with his gaze, it didn’t matter._

_But instead his father reacts the way he does to everything. With a detached kind of hardness._

_“You can’t tell anyone, Isak,” he says, his eyes as serious as can be. “Not your Mamma, not Lea, no one. Do you understand?”_

_Isak’s eyebrows furrow, his lips pulling downwards, his chest constricting painfully._

_“But Pappa…Uncle Lee – “_

_“I know what he did, Isak!” his dad snaps, causing Isak to flinch back slightly._

_Tom notices, taking a deep breath to steady himself, before closing the door behind him and walking further into the room._

_Isak stays quiet. Not really knowing what else to do._

_Tom sits on the edge of the bed. For a moment Isak foolishly thinks that maybe he’ll reach out for him. But he doesn’t._

_“Look, son,” Tom continues. “I know he hurt you. But he’s leaving now, okay? It won’t happen again. But…if you tell your mom or sister it will destroy them. Do you want to be the reason for that?”_

_Isak shakes his head furiously – finally meeting his dad’s eyes. His own shine brightly with tears, his father’s blank. Of course, he didn’t want to cause them pain. He didn’t want them to feel this. He didn’t want them to have to endure this kind of pain. This pain that consumes him completely – taking over every part of his mind, his body, his soul._

_“And you know Mamma is fragile.”_

_This time Isak nods._

_He did. He knew just how very fragile she was. This would break her faster than she already was breaking._

_“Good,” Tom nods firmly. “Are you…are you hurting now? Do you need anything?”_

_Isak shakes his head. It’s a lie. His body is screaming in pain. But right now, all he wanted was to be alone._

_Tom nods and begins to move to the door._

_He turns one more time before he leaves, clearing his throat, and speaking quietly, “Look, it’s…it’s not your fault that this happened, okay? It’s not your fault that your uncle is a faggot. People like him…they just can’t help themselves. But he’s gone now. It’s over.”_

_And then he leaves – his words hanging in the air all around Isak._

_He should feel relieved that Uncle Lee is gone. Relieved that nothing like that will ever happen again._

_But he doesn’t. Not really. He feels like everything is slowly draining from him. Everything inside him becoming empty. Like, Uncle Lee stole something from him when he left. He stole everything from him – his childhood, his happiness, his life._

_Isak can feel something beginning as he moves back, slipping beneath his blanket and wrapping himself up tightly. No one there to comfort him but himself. He can feel the beginning of the feeling. The feeling of being completely alone in this world._

_This is where all his deeply seeded secrets would hide. Here within him in this room._

_He’s empty._

_He’s officially broken._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hides behind rock* 
> 
> Don't hate me!
> 
> I know that last scene was a hard one :/ but it was definitely necessary so we begin to understand a little more why Isak thinks the way he does. Why Isak and Tom's relationship is the way it is and why Isak connects what happened to him with sexuality. It's going to be a long road and these are all things Isak is going to have to deal with, understand, and unlearn.
> 
> But hopefully you enjoyed the final scene between our boys :) it's been one of my favorites to write.
> 
> Let me know! Your comments and feedback are everything <3


	24. A Different Kind of Weakness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...hello. 
> 
> I know it's been a really, really long time. But as most of you know I've been going through a very difficult and stressful time in my real life, so it's been hard to write for me. Especially this story - not only because of the subject matter but because of how close this story is to my heart. I want to do it justice and my mind just wasn't in the right place to continue writing and posting. 
> 
> HOWEVER, I am doing a lot better now and working hard each day to get up and do the best that I can! And that means writing again :) my creativity is slowly starting to come back and my ability to continue this story.
> 
> I want to thank each and every one of you for your patience and kindness <3\. Everyone who left comments while I was away - you're just so very lovely. You made me smile and gave me the strength, will, and courage to keep writing. You're amazing <3\. 
> 
> Now that the sappy stuff is out of the way! I hope you enjoy this chapter! I put a small recap at the beginning of the chapter so I hope that helps you remember a bit! I know it's been a long time so. 
> 
> A big shout out to my very helpful and lovely editor Jenn who corrects my silly errors :D 
> 
> . 
> 
> Don't forget to leave me some love & feedback letting me know you guys are still here and what you think is gonna happen next :D

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_"Progress is progress. No matter how small it may be."_

.....

** Last Chapter: **

_It turns out anywhere is a random house, a few blocks in the opposite direction of Even’s place._

_Even is currently kneeling in front of a small window trying to get the lock loose so they can get in._

_“Okay, whose house is this again?” Isak asks – eyes darting around the yard and street behind him._

_It’s cold and dark and an unsteady feeling begins to pool in the pit of his stomach._

_“I told you it’s my aunt’s. She’s on vacation and said I could use the pool.”_

_“Why don’t you have a key then?”_

_Even huffs out a laugh, turning towards Isak as soon as the window finally pops open. “She forgot to leave an extra one. Why are you so skeptical?”_

_“I’m not!” Isak shakes his head vehemently. “It’s just weird.”_

_Even’s only reply is a roll of his eyes and, of course, a warm wide smile as he hops through the tiny window._

_Isak sighs, taking one last glance around the road._

_Sure, he might be a little skeptical. A little paranoid. A little on edge. But he also feels…excited. He can’t remember a time when he’s had this much fun. This much freedom. Not feeling weighed down by negativity and pain._

_Maybe it’s his time to take this kind of risk._

_A risk on happiness perhaps._

_A risk with Even._

_So, he follows after Even, who is already taking off his shirt, getting ready for a swim._

_Isak’s eyes linger on his chest but only for a moment._

_“We’re seriously going to go swimming without our clothes?” Isak asks as he hesitates to shed his own clothes._

_He tries to keep his eyes focused on the ground as Even continues._

_“Just our boxers. What’s wrong? You scared of messing up your hair or something?”_

_Isak snorts, “My hair? Does it look like I give a shit about my hair?”_

_Even regards the younger boy for a moment – eyes filled with false contemplation._

_“Yeah, you’re right,” he nods, “must be something else.”_

_“Oh, fuck off.”_

_“Come on,” Even smiles. “Have a little fun for once in your life. Let go.”_

_And that smile is definitely Isak’s deciding factor. That fucking smile that makes Isak want to let go of absolutely everything holding him back._

_He lets go –_

_He moves forward, wicked smile on his face, taking Even completely by surprise and pushes him into the pool._

_“Fuck!”_

_Isak chuckles, not bothering to remove a single item of clothing, before jumping in after him._

_“Well, that’s one way to let go,” Even huffs as he resurfaces._

_His eyes are bright and filled with night-time mischief._

_But it’s not the kind of mischief that sets Isak’s teeth on edge. It’s not the type of mischief that makes him feel small and scared. It’s a new kind. A kind that makes his heart feel alight with possibilities. A kind that makes him want to laugh and follow this night wherever it may take him._

_Isak floats there silently – just staring – with just one thought echoing through his head._

_Even is beautiful._

_He’s so fucking beautiful._

_His hair becomes darker as the water soaks it. A few strands hang and stick to his forehead messily. It drips from his lashes and chin, a few drops falling into his mouth as he licks his lips._

_Even’s skin is almost fluorescent under the barely-there moonlight._

_Even tilts his head, moving just a bit closer to Isak, “What?”_

_Isak swallows thickly as he feels his heartbeat pick up – sure and unsure all the same. His skin tingles, feeling hot despite the cool water._

_His voice shakes but he speaks anyway, “You’re beautiful, too.”_

_For a few moments neither boy moves. The only sound is the small splash of the water and the tick of a clock somewhere far off. Isak holds his breath waiting for Even’s reply._

_And then the smile reappears._

_Even’s eyes fill with such joy that Isak can’t help but smile back in return._

_And then Even is moving towards him with purpose, his intent clear, and Isak lets him. He lets the older boy press his lips firmly to his own, he lets him walk him backwards clumsily through the water, he lets him press his back against the rough wall of the pool and lets his warm hands come up and cup his face, oh so delicately._

_It’s soft and slow at first – just light pressing kisses, they just feel each other. Isak feels so safe and warm here in Even’s arms. He feels good. It feels so fucking good._

_Isak’s legs are around Even’s waist – his covered chest pressed against Even’s bare one._

_And this just feel so right. So right that it’s almost as if nothing in Isak’s life has been right until this very moment._

_Isak feels Even’s thumb press against his chin softly – tilting his head for better access before pulling down with a little more effort, forcing his mouth open, and Isak lets his tongue slip in eagerly._

_Isak lets out a soft moan, arching his back slightly as he feels himself begin to get more and more affected._

_Even’s tongue presses to his own searchingly, sweetly, calmly._

_But Isak isn’t in the mood for slow. He wants fast and fierce. It’s been so long since he’s been touched, been wanted like this._

_And the thought of Even wanting him like this sets his body on fire, causes him to flush from head to toe. He wants Even. He wants him so badly._

_He’s wanted him since the moment he laid eyes on him across the school yard. And he was done denying it. This is what he wants._

_He wants Even._

_So, he moves his hands up until he reaches Even’s hair – curling his fingers around the soaked strands he finds. He tries to push his body closer to Even’s, tries to move his lips faster, tries to get Even just as worked up as he’s becoming._

_But Even keeps his movements slow. Too slow for Isak’s liking._

_“Even,” Isak pants heavily, his lips moving against Even’s as he speaks heatedly, trying to keep them as close as humanly possible. “Come on, come on I – “_

_“Isak,” Even cuts him off, pulling back slightly, his eyes soft, yet determined in a way that makes Isak pause, “has anyone ever taken care of you?”_

_Isak blinks._

_And blinks again._

_He opens his mouth to reply but...he can’t._

_He doesn’t know what to say to that._

_He’s never really thought about it._

_Sexuality has always been a sensitive subject with Isak. It’s either been quick fucks in dark rooms, hidden secrets, faces uncomfortably buried in pillows. Or it’s been against a dirty brick wall, in a filthy back alley._

_Or it’s been with girls – no emotion, no real pleasure, nothing but…emptiness._

_So, has he ever been taken care of? Probably not the way Even means. Isak can see the question reflected deep in his eyes. This isn’t about orgasms or guys or sexuality._

_This is something softer ._

_Something simple._

_Isak frowns and shakes his head hesitantly._

_He doesn’t want to lie. But he’s scared. He’s never let himself go like this. He’s never let himself be this vulnerable with another human being._

_Especially not a boy, not like this._

_And definitely not a boy like Even. A boy with all the light in the world inside him, a boy that deserves so much more than Isak has to offer._

_Even nods, like he knew the whole time, like he expected no other answer but this one._

_“Let me,” Even whispers, the sound sending a shiver down Isak’s spine as the knots in his stomach twist tighter in the most magnificent of ways. “Let me take care of you, baby. Please.”_

_Even’s face is completely open to him. Isak takes in everything - the beauty reflected in those deep blues, the weight of himself on Even as he supports him, the weightlessness he feels in the water._

_He takes in the barely visible freckles scattered across Even’s nose, the tiny scar in between his eyebrows, the silly little heart shaped beauty mark next to his eye, the subtle way his chin dips inward at the middle._

_He’s so fucking beautiful._

_Even’s breathing is shallow and sweet and sweeps over Isak’s face._

_Isak feels his body begin to shiver all over, his fingers uncurl from Even’s hair and move to his back, he pushes his fingertips into the soft skin there, probably hard enough to leave bruises. But Even doesn’t complain._

_He simply lets Isak press them there, lets Isak shift until he is nuzzling the skin of Even’s neck, lets Isak breathe steadily, the whole time waiting oh-so patiently for Isak’s answer._

_Isak feels his lashes slide over Even’s skin and sighs - feeling so comforted, so precious, so cherished in his arms._

_Isak already knows what his answer is. He thinks he may have known since the second he followed Even into the pool house – eager and hypnotized._

_He wants to be taken care of. He isn’t sure exactly what that means to Even but he knows it’s something deeper than this. Something deeper than sex, something deeper than gay or straight._

_Finally, Isak nods and presses his face harder into the skin of the other boy’s neck – he smells fresh and clean and beautiful._

_“Please,” Isak whispers back. “Yes, please.”_

_So, Even does._

_He reaches below the water, reaching beneath Isak’s shirt, teasing the skin of his stomach lightly and leaving goose-bumps before slipping beneath the waistband of Isak’s pants, under his boxers, and takes Isak in his hand, causing the younger boy to moan and begin to grow harder. Even is gentle and takes his time and this is completely new territory for Isak. But he goes with it. He lets himself be completely taken over by it._

_It’s good._

_It’s so goddamn good that Isak has to grit his teeth against it. He tries to slow his mind down, tries to slow his body down, but there’s no use. Not when Even is tearing him apart at the seams like this._

_He’s never felt this...cared for._

_Especially not while doing this. He’s used to rough and fast. He’s used to empty and hollow._

_But this...this means something._

_He begins to move his hips in slow circles, fucking Even’s fist slowly as everything begins to build. He licks Even’s wet skin and hears himself making small whimpering sounds that he can’t seem to control, that he can’t seem to be embarrassed by._

_Even talks him through everything. Comforting him with small shushes and whispering things like –_

_I’ve got you, baby._

_Just let go._

_Let me take care of you._

_And he does. He takes care of Isak, brings him such pleasure._

_Soon Isak is desperate to come – his head thrown back as the heat begins to pool in the pit of his stomach, his hips moving erratically with Even’s more measured hand movements, his body bursts into flames as Even’s lips touch the skin of his shoulder, sucking lightly, but hard enough to leave a small purple mark. Territorial. Claiming. Isak can feel it._

_Isak can feel Even’s intention of the mark practically leaking through his skin, into his bloodstream._

_And it makes him groan louder, move faster, push harder._

_“Fuck, Even. Please, please, please. ”_

_He doesn’t know what he’s begging for at this point._

_But Even gives it to him anyway._

_“It’s okay,” Even says lowly._

_Isak moves his head down and locks eyes with him – Even’s pupils are blown and his lips are parted as he breathes heavily_

_“Come. Come for me. Let me see you let go, let me see how good it feels,” he tells him._

_That pushes Isak over the edge – he lets go. His orgasm hitting him so hard that he has to grip Even harder, hard enough to ground himself, to keep himself from slipping beneath the surface of the water. But Even holds him tightly. His eyes never move from Even’s as his body is completely rocked. His mouth falls open but no noise escapes. The scream of pleasure getting stuck at the back of his throat._

_Isak’s body feels like jello when he finally feels himself come back to reality. He’s panting and flushed everywhere. He lets his head fall forward where he leaves a matching purple mark on Even’s shoulder._

_Claiming._

_Even chuckles at the feeling and Isak smiles lightly against the skin there._

_He stays there for a while, panting and satisfied in Even’s arms. It isn’t until his body stops shaking and his stomach begins to cool that he realizes that some of the water on Even’s shoulder isn’t from the pool but rather from Isak’s eyes._

_He really had let go of everything._

_“Thank you,” Isak whispers when he feels strong enough to finally speak._

_There is a smile in Even's voice as he replies, “My pleasure.”_

_Isak’s eyes fall closed. He lets himself hold and be held. He lets himself give and take. He lets himself…be._

_And he’s never been happier in his whole life._

_In fact, he isn’t sure he’s ever really felt true happiness until this moment. Nothing has ever compared to this feeling._

_This feeling of finally being somewhere he belongs. A feeling of finally fitting somewhere so perfectly._

_This feeling of wholeness._

_The feeling of happiness._

_The feeling of Even._

.

 

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**3 Months Later**

“I can feel you staring, you know,” Even whispers, eyes closed and a subtle smile gracing his lips.

Isak smiles back – wide and happy. He doesn’t say anything in return. He doesn’t need to. That’s the beauty of mornings with Even. No words are needed to fill the silent space in between them. It’s comfortable. It’s always so comfortable.

Even’s eyes open slowly, blinking a few times against the morning light, eyes still filled with dreams.

“Hi,” Isak whispers.

“Hi.”

“You know, I may talk in my sleep, but you snore…like really, really loudly.”

“Shut up,” Even laughs, reaching out to flick Isak’s nose, “I do not.”

“Oh, yes you do. I’m gonna have to get earplugs for when I stay over here from now on.”

Even’s smile stays in place as he brings his hand to Isak’s face.

Something Isak has picked up on is how much Even likes touching him, touching him in the subtlest, simplest ways. Even just likes to be near him. And Isak doesn’t mind, not at all. He’s not too comfortable initiating those same small touches yet but he looks forward to when Even does.

Now, Even traces the dip just above Isak’s lip with his thumb, runs his index finger across his eyebrow, boops his nose lightly, feels the soft skin right below his eyes.

“You really are beautiful,” Even says softly.

Isak can’t help the blush that rushes to his cheeks. He’s still not used to the compliments either, the attention, the care. It’s all still so new to him. It’s a learning process for him, knowing how to react when Even does the things he does so softly, touches him the way he does, with such thought and care. Like Isak is the most precious, delicate thing in the whole world.

Isak doesn’t reply to his words this time. He leans forward and kisses him.

It’s not the most romantic kiss in the world.

Both of the boy’s lips are chapped and they don’t open their mouths any wider because of their morning breath.

But any kiss is a beautiful kiss with Even. It’s a stupid, fucking ridiculous, cheesy thought that Isak never, ever would have bet he’d have. But it’s true.

Their lips just slide together, matching up perfectly, two pieces of a puzzle fitting together beautifully.

When they pull apart Even’s smile is even brighter than before.

The flip of Isak’s stomach, the flutters that fill his chest, don’t quite freak Isak out like they used to. They aren’t so scary, aren’t so stupid. He’s settled into a familiar and comforting routine with Even. One that makes him feel protected rather than anxious.

He knows that if he stopped too long to think about it, he’d be running as fast as he could in the opposite direction. So, he doesn’t. He just stays here, right here in this moment.

Isak is finding that with every day that passes with Even he discovers a new feeling, something he never even knew existed.

Even reaches out and pulls the strings of Isak’s hoodie, well really, _his_ hoodie.

“I love when you wear my clothes,” Even says quietly “they always smell like you afterwards.”

Isak tries not to smile – but only for a moment.

“And what do I smell like?”

Even chuckles, “Sweet.”

Isak rolls his eyes. Just because Even’s words comfort him now instead of scaring him away doesn’t mean that they’re not still embarrassingly cheesy and gross.

“Shut up,” Isak says.

“Make me.”

So, Isak does. He leans forward and presses his lips to Even’s once again.

.

.

.

Isak moves around Even’s room, letting his fingers trace over the silly drawing hanging on his walls, the guitar in the corner that Even never seems to play. He smiles as he looks at the scattered clothes on the floor and the piles of jumbled papers on his desk. Isak finds Even’s messy tendencies absolutely adorable. A few balled up pieces of paper lay next to the small trash can and Isak is so tempted to pick them up and see what Even thought wasn’t good enough to keep.

Even’s showed Isak some of his poetry and short stories now. And not that Isak is an expert or anything but Even’s art, no matter what form it comes in, is beautiful.

Something else Isak has learned about Even is that as creative and beautiful and dreamy his mind it, it’s also dark. So, so dark. Even is his own worst critic.

Isak hates when he sees the light behind Even’s eyes dim, when his mood dips and all he can do is criticize himself.

Even is the most beautiful person Isak has ever known. He pinches himself every morning just to make sure that this is real. That he’s here in Even’s apartment. That Even is really by his side, smiling brightly, kissing his lips so softly, willing to give his time to someone like Isak. Someone who doesn’t deserve it. Even deserves the whole fucking world and everything it has to offer in Isak’s opinion. And Isak knows he can’t give the older boy that.

But for some reason Even does waste his time on Isak. And Isak is going to enjoy it while it lasts.

The air is warm in the room. Warm and soothing. It smells like Even.

Isak pulls the hood to Even’s sweater up around his head and inhales deeply – a scent that is purely Even. Isak doesn’t know what he himself smells like to Even but if it’s anything like the way Even smells like him, he understands why Even loves when he wears his hoodies.

Isak startles slightly when he hears a loud knock coming from the living room.

He slowly makes his way to the bedroom door, peeking his head out to see if Even had heard too. But he can still hear the shower running. And the knock comes again.

Isak walks to the bathroom door, pressing his ear against the wood, and speaks loudly, “Even, someone’s knocking at the door.”

“Huh?” Even says back over the rushing water.

Isak raises his voice, “someone is knocking on the door!”

“Oh!” Even shouts back, “it’s probably Sana. She’s supposed to drop off some notes to study for our German test Monday. Let her in and I’ll be out in a minute.”

Isak sighs, dreading the awkwardness that is about to follow as soon as he opens the door.

He likes Sana. He really does. The problem is that she doesn’t like Isak. Even claims that she does, that she’s just protective, that he just needs to give her some time. But Isak sees it in her eyes. The way they narrow in Isak’s direction every time Even isn’t looking. Isak can feel the distain radiating from her whenever he’s near.

He wishes he could fix it, but he honestly doesn’t even know where to start to try.

Sana has a right to hate Isak after all. He’s not good enough for Even. He’s not a good person period.

Another knock comes, this time harder and more demanding.

“I’m coming!” Isak yells.

He makes his way to the front door and takes one final deep breath to brace himself. He never knows what to expect when Sana comes by. Sometimes it’s the silent glares. But sometimes it’s snarky comments and a subtle kind of rudeness that most people wouldn’t notice. It’s a rudeness reserved just for Isak. Because really, Sana is a good person at heart. This much Isak knows.

However, when Isak finally places his hand on the doorknob, swinging the door open, it’s not Sana standing there. Not even close.

It’s a woman. Her fist raised in the air as if she was about to knock again. She’s tall and lovely. Her eyes are crystal clear blue, her hair golden blonde, her lips pink and plump and she looks…she looks like _Even._

Isak’s eyes widen.

“Oh, hello,” the woman says, obviously just as surprised as Isak, as she lowers her hand.

Isak means to reply but the words catch in the back of his throat.

“I’m Julie. Even’s---”

_Please don’t say it._

“mother.”

Isak clears his throat. Once. Twice. Three times.

“Oh, uhm,” his eyes flick towards the bathroom, praying that the door opens, but the water is still running.

“I’m sorry to intrude. I was just coming to say hi to my son,” the woman says, her smile wide and beautiful just like her son’s, “And I brought breakfast.”

She lifts the bag she’s carrying. Her eyes move down quickly, obviously noticing her son’s hoodie on Isak’s body.

“Oh, no, it’s--” Isak says as he shakes his head.

He doesn’t really know how to continue after that. He doesn’t know why he’s reacting like this but something about knowing this is Even’s mother. That she’s here in the flesh, meeting Isak, seeing Isak in her son’s hoodie. Smiling so brightly, completely ignorant to the fact that Isak isn’t supposed to be here. That he isn’t good for her son. But he’s stupid and selfish.

It’s all too much for him to handle at once. These thoughts rushing in like tidal waves because of a simple hello.

Isak swallows thickly, letting out a shaky breath when he finally hears the water from the bathroom stop.

“And you are?” Julie asks. Her voice is soft and hesitant.

She must sense something off about Isak. Perceptive just like her son.

“Oh, oh, I-Isak,” he stutters, “I’m Isak.”

Without even thinking about it he shoves his hand in her direction clumsily for a hand shake. Something he has literally never done before in his whole life.

Julie chuckles, taking his hand softly in hers, and shaking it lightly.

“Nice to meet you, Isak.”

Isak’s heart leaps into his throat when he hears the door behind him open. He turns to see Even standing there, a towel wrapped around his waist, steam pouring out from behind him, his hair dripping, remaining water still covering his chest.

Even’s reaction to his mother’s presence is much, much different than his own.

He smiles that smile, that smile that makes Isak melt every single time.

“Mom,” he says happily, moving forward, “what are you doing here?”

Isak can feel the heat radiating from Even’s skin when he stops to stand beside him. It adds to the heat already rushing beneath Isak’s cheeks and pooling uncomfortably in his stomach. He has the sudden urge to rip Even’s hoodie right off of his body.

“I’d hug you but,” Even gestures down to his freshly showered body, “come in!”

Isak bites his lip, taking a step back, even more embarrassed now that he realizes he forgot to invite her in.

Julie enters, shutting the door behind her. “I need a reason to come see my favorite son?”

“I’m your only son.”

“Yes, well, that’s neither here nor there. I brought some breakfast for us. I would have brought more if I knew Isak would be here.”

Both of their eyes turn to Isak now. Their smiles matching. Their moods so light and happy and nonchalant.

Isak can’t handle this.

He can’t.

It’s too much.

The air around him is suddenly thick, too hard to breathe in. The walls are closing in, making the room seem too small for all of them to fit in.

They’re happiness should be contagious. If Isak was a normal person he’d probably smile back, comment about how sweet it is of her to bring food, how nice it is to meet her too.

But he can’t. This kind of happiness makes him feel trapped. This isn’t just him and Even in their own little world, their own private bubble. This is different. This is too intimate. Too much.

Isak lets out a shaky breath before he speaks, “Uhm, no, no, it’s okay. I was just…I mean I have to go anyway.”

“Oh,” Julie nods, “well, okay then.”

Even, however, frowns at him, his eyes immediately filling with confusion, that turns to concern, that turns to understanding.

He knows what’s happening.

“Yeah, so,” Isak continues, “I’m just gonna go get my stuff.”

He turns on his heel and rushes to the bedroom much to quickly to be considered normal.

He rushes around the room, grabbing his phone and jacket, quickly pulling off Even’s basketball shorts and shimmying into his jeans.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbles to himself as he moves around the room clumsily.

When the door opens Isak doesn’t even look up to see the disappointment on his face.

He doesn’t want Even to ask questions. Because he doesn’t have answers. He doesn’t know why he’s reacting this way. He doesn’t want to react this way. But his body seems to be on autopilot at this point.

_Run, run, run._

_Escape, escape, escape._

These are the only words that echo in his head.

The only things he’s good at.

“Isak…” Even says quietly, his voice low and gentle and hesitant.

“I uhm,” Isak mumbles, grabbing his backpack and shoving his phone charger inside before slinging it over his shoulder. He moves to the door where Even’s body is blocking his escape route. “I totally forgot about this thing, uhm, that I promised Jonas I’d help him with, so I should just—”

“Isak,” Even sighs, his warm hands landing on Isak’s shoulders to stop him, to steady him, “just stop for a minute, okay? Just relax. Take a breath.”

Isak’s eyes stay focused on the floor. He just now notices that he didn’t even put his shoes on to leave.

“Look at me,” Even whispers.

Isak takes a deep breath, wanting to deny Even his request but knowing he won’t. He waits a beat or two longer before he blinks up to see Even looking back at him with understanding in his gaze.

Isak wishes he could hate this boy. Hate him and his fucking understanding and his way with words and his bone shaking touches and the way he can see Isak.

Like, _really_ see him.

Like he has peeled Isak’s skin back, studied his soul, poked around his in brain, and learned every little piece of him.

But he can’t. He just can’t hate Even.

“It’s okay,” Even tells him.

Isak’s brow furrows in confusion, “what?”

“It’s okay to be scared, okay? I didn’t know she was coming over and I didn’t even think about how you’d react to it,” Even says. “You’re not ready to meet her. I get it. But you don’t have to rush out like this. You can stay. Take your time. It doesn’t have to be scary.”

Isak blinks up at Even in awe.

And then blinks again.

And he can’t think of any other words except for, “okay.”

Then Even smiles. Like it’s that simple. That easy.

“But uhm,” Isak says, “I really should go. I mean I don’t—I’m not ready for…”

Even nods, “Okay.”

He leans down and presses his lips to Isak’s. He melts into it immediately, pushing his body closer to the older boy on instinct.

The kiss is sweet and brief, but it still makes Isak’s toes tingle.

“Call me later, okay?” Even breathes against Isak’s parted lips.

“Okay,” he agrees.

He slips on his shoes, quickly saying goodbye to Julie, before leaving the safety of Even’s apartment.

He walks home, not really knowing how to feel. He’s high on Even’s kisses, on his smiles and breathless whispers. But shaking from the unintentional ambush of Julie Bech Næsheim.

But every time he feels his thoughts begin to rush to quickly and his heart pick up speed, he brings the fabric of the hoodie up to his nose, inhaling the sweet smell of Even to calm his nerves.

And he smiles.

.

.

.

When Isak arrives home it’s quiet and still.

He still always feels uneasy when he enters his house but now that he has Even, it’s been a little better. Ever since he and Lea had their talk about getting Mamma help.

When he pushes his bedroom door open, he is greeted by his sister sprawled out in the middle of his bed, school work splayed in front of her, earbuds in as she bops her head along to the music.

Isak smiles.

He’s happy to have his little sister back.

And as much as he tries to protect Lea, she protects him just as much back. She keeps him grounded here. She keeps him going.

Isak drops his backpack and gets a running start before pouncing on the bed, effectively knocking Lea’s books off the bed, and crumpling most of her papers.

“Isak!” she yells, ripping her earbuds out. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Isak chuckles, watching as heat rises to Lea’s cheeks in anger. “Saying hi.”

“Hi to you too, asshole,” she groans, punching Isak in the arm.

He winces and grabs his throbbing shoulder.

“Ow.”

Lea looks up at him and smiles, not really angry. She’s happy to see him. This is how they’ve been lately. Happy. Playful. Like brother and sister again.

Ever since they talked about getting Mamma help it’s like a weight has been lifted off both their shoulders. It’s like they can both breathe again.

It doesn’t matter that nothing final has happened yet, it doesn’t matter that they have to be careful, to keep it as quiet as possible so Tom doesn’t find out. It’s happening. It’s going to happen.

“So,” Lea says, pushing herself up before leaning back onto Isak’s pillows, “you look happy. Did you just come from Even’s?”

Isak sighs, moving to sit next to his sister, kicking his shoes off his feet and off the bed in the process.

This is something new between the siblings. And Isak isn’t even quite sure if he knows what _this_ is.

He’s told Lea about Even. He had to. The friend who knew how to help them help Mamma. Lea doesn’t know much about Even, but she does know her brother like the back of her hand. She sees him. She sees his face light up whenever they talk about the other boy. She sees him blush when she mentions how long he’s been out with Even.

They haven’t talked about it out loud.

And everything in Isak is screaming to defend himself against something he hasn’t even done wrong. He feels the lies and the denial crawl beneath his skin. He feels the harsh words on the tip of his tongue whenever she brings it up. Hints at something more.

But he holds it in. Because this is Lea.

Lea is safe.

He still won’t say anything out loud, and neither will she. But there’s no need.

Isak clears his throat, “yeah.”

Lea smiles, flicks the tip of Isak’s ear, giggling when he swats her hand away.

“When am I going to meet him?” she asks. “You said soon like three weeks ago. Isn’t he supposed to be helping with Mamma?”

Isak nods, turning his head to his sister. He smiles when he sees her hopeful, happy eyes. They’re not tired or empty. They’re Lea’s. They’re beautiful.

“He is,” Isak says. “I’ve just been talking to him about everything first. Like…how Mamma is and stuff. But he said this weekend would be cool. If you want to.”

Lea’s smile widens, “Of course.”

Isak reaches out and takes his sister’s hand in his own just like when they were little. Holding hands, clinging to each other because they were all each other had.

Isak’s heartbeat has never felt so steady and warm.

“How does he know about all this stuff anyway?” Lea asks. “Is his mom like Mamma?”

Isak shakes his head, “No, _he’s_ like Mamma. Well, not exactly. He has bipolar disorder. I don’t know a lot about it but he’s on meds and sees doctors and that’s how he’ll be able to help us.”

Lea nods before dropping her head on her brother’s shoulder, scooting closer to him.

“Okay.”

Isak smiles.

He thinks he’s smiled more in these past six months than he ever has his whole life.

It’s a new feeling.

But a good one.

A really good one.

.

.

.

It’s late and Isak is wide awake, lost in his swirling thoughts.

He tosses his cellphone up in the air, catching it over and over, above the covers, as he stares at nothing. Another sleepless night. Not unusual.

But what is unusual is what’s keeping him awake this time.

He sent another text to Eva about an hour ago.

No reply.

Ever since the incident with Chris, Eva refuses to talk to him. He’s tried to approach her at school, but she always just runs away, he’s gone to her house but she’s never there, and every single text he has sent goes ignored.

He’s texted that he’s not angry at her. That it was Chris’ fault. He’s texted asking her to meet up. He’s texted saying fuck the meet up, just let me know you’re okay. But every time –  nothing.

Now, his stomach fills with an uneasy kind of heat whenever he thinks about her. Whenever he walks the halls in school and doesn’t see her small frame running his way. She hasn’t been to school in three weeks now. Isak’s counted. And neither has Chris. And he knows that’s no coincidence.

He just wants to know she’s alive, because he knows for a fact that she’s not okay.

Even tries to comfort him. He keeps telling him that it’s not his responsibility. That he knows Isak loves Eva, but you can only help people who want to be helped.

But Even doesn’t understand. He doesn’t know the whole story. He doesn’t know that this is all Isak’s fault. That Isak is so broken and destructive that he even takes the people he cares about down with him.

Eva is broken because of Isak.

If anything happens to her, there is no one else to blame but him.

But he can’t tell Even that. Not now. Not yet.

Isak lets out a heavy sigh, bringing his phone back to his face, ready to send another pointless text when he hears the front door slam.

He jumps at the sudden noise, dropping his phone in the process. His heart automatically leaping forward.

Isak’s eyes try to focus through the darkness of his room, eyes wide, staring at the light beneath his door as he listens to the heavy uneven steps of Tom.

He hears a few things tip over, maybe a lamp, he hears Tom mutter a few curses before the steps stop.

Isak swallows thickly when he sees that Tom has stopped right in front of his door.

His racing pulse is stuck in his throat, making it feel small, like breathing is useless to him now.

His body begins to heat as the dread and anticipation creeps into his mind, into his body. His fingers begin to curl, nails digging deeply into his bedspread, bracing for whatever may come, whatever is waiting for him on the other side of the door.

This happens from time to time, although it hasn’t happened in months. Tom will come home from the bar completely wasted. Angry and yelling. Throwing and pushing. Punching and kicking and hurting.

These are the times that Isak makes Lea lock herself in her room and cover her ears. Tells her not to get in the way of Tom when he unleashes his anger on Isak.

He’d take a million punches if it meant Lea went untouched.

Isak holds his breath as the door begins to squeak open, light spilling into the room, as Tom stumbles in reeking of booze and misery and broken dreams.

Isak waits.

His teeth on edge, unsure and uneasy about Tom’s quiet entrance. Usually the door is practically kicked open when Tom wants Isak up, when he wants to cause pain, when he wants to use his son as his own personal punching bag.

But tonight, Tom enters…quietly. When he closes the door behind him it’s…softly.

Isak sits up quickly, not really sure what to expect from his father this time.

Tom doesn’t unleash his anger. He just stands there. Leans against his son’s door, breathing heavily, keeping his eyes closed.

He thought he had seen every single side of his father there was to see.

He’s used to seeing his dad in many ways. He’s used to seeing him cold and distant and tired. He’s used to seeing him drunk and angry. He’s used to seeing him selfish and miserable.

But right now, Tom just looks…lost. His body slumps against the door in defeat, in exhaustion.

Isak isn’t really sure what he’s supposed to do now. He opens his mouth a few times just to close it again.

His heart still pounds beneath his rips, in his throat, in his fingertips and toes.

Isak isn’t sure how much time passes before he finally speaks.

He isn’t sure he wants to speak at all.

Maybe Tom wandered into the wrong room and just hasn’t realized it yet.

Maybe he isn’t looking for him at all and when Isak alerts Tom of his presence then the anger will come.

It’s the only reasonable explanation Isak can think of.

“Pappa?” Isak finally whispers into the dark.

He hears the way that his voice quivers and he hates himself for it.

Tom lifts his head immediately. His eyes are swollen, puffy, and red. The bags beneath them are dark and his cheeks look hallowed, caving in like he hasn’t had a proper meal in weeks.

“Hey son,” Tom whispers back, his voice rough and cracked.

Isak inhales sharply as the word falls from his father’s lips.

He can’t remember the last time Tom has called him that. He can’t remember the last time Tom has spoken to him with such tenderness in his voice.

Isak doesn’t know this side of his father.

He’s not sure he’s ever seen it.

“What…” Isak tries to find the right words, still afraid anything he says wrong could set Tom off, “are you okay?”

Tom chuckles lifelessly.

And yeah, it’s probably a stupid question, but Isak has no other words.

Tom pushes himself away from the door, wobbling and stumbling, barely able to keep himself up right.

Isak sits up further, scooting back on his bed, his back practically hugging the wall at this point – as he braces himself for anything to come.

Tom strips his way to the end of the bed, just barely catching himself before he face plants, and sits down heavily.

Isak wrinkles his nose as Tom’s stench hits his nostrils. He obvious hasn’t showered in a few days, his beard overgrown, his shirt stained and hanging open. A nauseating mix of bourbon and cigar smoke lingers in the air.

A heavy silence fills the room for a while.

Isak keeps himself ready, keeps himself on edge, not letting his guard drop just in case.

He watches Tom carefully – his head hanging down to his chest, his back moving up and down with the steady rhythm of his breathing.

When Tom speaks, it causes Isak to jump, his muscles tensing, his jaw clenching. His voice sounds so loud in the stillness of the room.

“You know,” Tom starts, his words slightly slurred, but clear enough for Isak to make out, “I never really wanted kids. I mean, I wasn’t opposed to them, but I never really dreamed of having kids or liked the idea very much.” He chuckles.

Isak doesn’t speak, doesn’t breathe, doesn’t move a muscle as his father continues to ramble.

“Because I never thought of myself as a very caring person. How was I supposed to care for another human being when I can’t even care for myself?”

Isak can hear the sadness through his small smile.

“But then I met your mother. She was so beautiful, so happy, so carefree. And I fell in love with her. I did. I really did. She…changed everything about my life. She made me want to try, not just sit around and waste my life away. And when she got pregnant with you, I was actually… _happy,_ ” Tom says, looking back to his son, “can you believe that? _Me_. Happy about kids.”

Still, Isak keeps quiet as he feels the water begin to pool beneath his eyes.

He’s not sure why the tears begin to form. Maybe it’s from the rush of emotions that flood his body, maybe it’s because he doesn’t know what he’s feeling at all, maybe it’s because he has no idea what to do beside cry.  

Tom’s eyes only linger for a moment or two before he turns away to face the door again.

“And things were good,” Tom says, nodding his head in confirmation, as if to convince himself that his words were true. “I don’t know how much you remember from when you were little, but things were good for a while. Even after Lea came, things stayed good for a long while. Until…”

Tom trails off, letting Isak fill in the blank himself.

Until _him_.

Until Isak fucked everything up.

Isak knows his father blames him for the family falling apart, although Isak can’t remember a single time when the family actually felt put together.

Tom has said it to him a million times before. How it was his fault that Uncle Lee did those things. How it was his fault that he was so sad after that. How he was so broken. How that only drove his mother more mad.

Rationally, Isak knows it’s bullshit. That he was just a kid.

But that doesn’t stop the pain that radiates through his body every time Tom says it. It doesn’t stop the thoughts that try to break through, that yell it at him every single day. It doesn’t stop him from feeling disgusted with himself, with his dirty thoughts, his tainted mind, his tainted body.

It doesn’t stop him from feeling pathetic, filthy, wrong.

Isak finally feels a single tear fall, slipping slowly down his cheek, catching on his lips.

After a while Tom stands unsteadily on his feet, making his way to the door.

Before he leaves he turns to his son one last time. His eyelids droop low, his voice mumbled and slurred so badly that Isak doesn’t think he will remember any of this in the morning.

“I’m sorry I can’t help you.”

And then he’s gone.

And Isak lets more tears fall.

And now, only one single word comes to Isak’s mind.

He’s seen his father in many ways but there is one word that sums him up perfectly.

_Pathetic._

A different kind of weakness.

_Pathetic._

_Pathetic._

_Pathetic._

.

.

.

Isak hasn’t felt this way in a long time while hanging out with his friends.

He loves them, he really does. But he can’t be completely himself with them. He has to lie. He has to pretend. He has to be fake.

But lately, with Even around, it’s different.

He can’t exactly call is relaxed or at ease but…he isn’t on edge.

He’s…indifferent in a way.

 _Comfortable_.

It’s almost feels _normal_. In a normal setting. Doing normal teenage things.

His mind isn’t racing a mile a minute. His brain isn’t overcrowded with thoughts that won’t leave him be.

All he’s thinking about it right now.

He can’t remember the last time he’s only been able to think of now.

Jonas, Magnus, Mahdi, and Even are spread around the small coffee table in Jonas’ living room. His mom is out for the night, so he invited to boys over for what Mahdi has teasingly called a ‘slumber party’. They’re all chatting and laughing and passing a joint around.

Isak’s head is hazy in the best kind of way. He’s stretched out on the couch, his muscle relaxed and warm. Even sits on the floor in front of him and Isak can smell his shampoo. It makes Isak’s eyes close, makes him want to let out a sound of pleasure, of contentment.

“So,” Mahdi coughs as he passes the joint to Even, “why did you change schools and go to Nissen your last year? Seems like a hassle.”

Isak opens his heavy lids against the harsh lightly of the room as his curiosity rises. He’s asked Even the same question once – when they were just strangers on a park bench under the moonlight. Even had answered simply that it was a long story and Isak supposes he just forgot to ask again.

Maybe he’s just self-centered like that.

Maybe he decided it didn’t matter all that much anymore. Even was here now and that was enough.

Even hums quietly as he brings the joint to his lips. Isak watches the smoke pour from them and licks his own lips in return – knowing how soft those lips are, on his own, on his stomach, his thighs, his back.

“It’s honestly kind of a boring story,” Even answers, reaching over and handing the joint to Isak.

He puffs on it even though he probably shouldn’t. He’s already a little too high and a little too sleepy.

“I was going through a manic episode and kind of made a mess of everything. I tried to kiss my best friend even though he’s the straightest person I’ve ever met, I vandalized a teacher’s car because she treated me shitty like…a year ago and I don’t even remember what it was that she did to me,” Even chuckles, like it’s no big deal. Like he’s over it.

Just like he’s over his scars. Just like he can show them so casually. In a way Isak doesn’t think he will ever understand.

“I made my way to the top of the school’s roof and peed on whoever was walking below, I punched the cop who tried to get me down, and I tried to bite his partner.”

“Holy shit!” Magnus laughs, his eyes widening comically.

“Are you serious, man?” Mahdi asks in a way that makes it seem like he doesn’t know whether he should laugh or cry.

Even simply nods.

Isak notices that Jonas’ eyes are fixed on the older boy, his lips turned down at the edges, his eyebrows furrowed as if in thought.

Isak tries to catch his best friend’s eye, to ask him what’s wrong, but Jonas’ stare doesn’t budge.

“Yeah, mania can make you do some fucked up shit. But then…I crashed, and things just got worse. I wasn’t diagnosed formally at that point, so we didn’t really know what was going on. And that’s how I got my scars.”

Even nods towards his currently covered arms. He obviously knows all the boys have noticed. It would be impossible not to. Even doesn’t try to hide his past like Isak does. He literally wears his on his sleeve. He shows himself with complete honesty. He’s unflinchingly himself.

It makes Isak want to hold him close. It makes Isak want to push him as far away as possible. It’s what Isak loves about him. It’s what Isak hates about him.

Isak doesn’t understand. He can’t fathom how Even is here, simply telling the boys this, people he hasn’t known for that long. Completely unashamed. Completely open.

He’s faced his demons and came out on the other side. He’s strong. He’s brave. Isak has seen it. He’s seen it in the way Even carries himself every day. In the way he laughs and talks and draws and writes and lives.

“What were you diagnosed with?” Mahdi asks. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Even shakes his head because, of course he doesn’t. “Bipolar disorder.”

“Oi!” Magnus says, leaning forward and snatching the joint from Isak’s fingers, “My mom’s bipolar.”

“Oh yeah?” Even says.

“Yeah. She’s done some fucked up stuff like that too,” he laughs. “I remember one time she got so pissed off by the railway company that she went out of her way to find out who the district manager was and sent a resignation letter with his name on it,” he continues to laugh easily. “It said something like: I can’t take this anymore and I quit!”

Isak pauses for a moment as the others laugh at the story, but Isak somehow can’t find the humor in it.

He tries to remember if anything seemed off about Magnus’ mom the last few times he’s seen her. She seemed completely fine to Isak. She seemed lovely in fact. She cooked dinner for Isak and her son and gave them some money to go see a movie.

Isak stares up at the ceiling and sighs, “But…your mom seems completely normal.”

“She is normal,” Magnus replies.

“No, I know. I just meant that I didn’t know she was crazy,” Isak says.

There’s a silence that follows Isak’s words that makes his stomach drop. The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them. He’s slipped up a few times with Even, throwing the word around casually in a way he came to notice Even didn’t like.

He doesn’t mean it in a demeaning way. He really doesn’t. It’s just what he was used to. It’s how he began to describe his mother was he was young, when he didn’t know what was happening to her, when he didn’t know what bipolar disorder or schizophrenia, or depression was, when he was trying to explain it to his little sister. He was just as lost as Lea, but he couldn’t let her know that, not when he was supposed to protect her from all the bad things in the world.

And so, that’s what their mom became to them.

_Crazy._

Isak bites his lip, holding his breath, waiting for the first person to speak. Afraid of who it will be.

It’s Magnus, “She’s not crazy,” he says lowly. “She’s bipolar.”

“Right, no, I mean…I know. I’m sorry.”

There’s a small awkward pause between the boys before the subject is dropped.

Isak lets his eyes fall closed.

.

When Isak wakes up a few hours later, it’s wakes to the smell of pizza.

He opens his eyes to find three empty boxes scattered across the living room floor, the coffee table littered with burnt out joints and loud snoring coming from Jonas’ bedroom down the hall.

He rolls his eyes, _of course they wouldn’t save him any._

“Fucking assholes,” he mutters, lifting his arms above his head, stretching his muscles and listening to his back crack.

“I hope you don’t mean me.”

Isak whips his head around to see Even leaning against the wall – smiling softly. His hair is fluffy-messy, like he just woke up from a nap too. His clothes are wrinkled, and his eyes are still red from the weed.

And he is so, _so_ fucking beautiful.

Butterflies immediately fill Isak’s stomach in the most ridiculous of ways.

Isak’s eyes run over his face again and again, as if it’s happening for the first time.

Every time he’s with Even he tries to commit everything about the older boy to memory. Every dip, every scar, every beauty mark, every little thing that is possible to remember.

So that when the day comes when this dream is over, when this luck slips through his fingers, he’ll remember.

He’ll remember the most beautiful person he’s ever known.

The person who made his life bearable, even if it was just for a little while. The person who made Isak strong enough to survive what happened with his dad the other night. The person who made him want to face the next day, not run away, not sniff everything away.

He doesn’t know where this rush of emotions comes from or why it comes now. Even seems to just bring this kind of spontaneity out in Isak, but whatever the case, it hits him hard and fast that all he wants is _this_.

This feeling.

Where nothing exists, no one exists but the two of them.

This feeling that Even gives him that makes every atom in his body call out for him, want him close, wants him to never leave.

All he wants is Even.

Even holds out the plate in his hand and says, “don’t worry. I saved you some. Good thing I woke up when I did. They totally would have eaten it all. I barely got some.”

Isak smiles as he reaches out and motions Even to come to him.

“So thoughtful,” Isak replies.

But as soon as Even reaches him, Isak completely ignores the pizza, reaching for Even instead. He pulls on his t-shirt which causes Even to stumble, drop the plate, and land on top of the younger boy with a thud.

Even laughs loudly, catching himself on his hands, making sure not to crush Isak completely as he lays back.

“Shhh,” Isak shushes him playfully, “don’t wake the guys.”

Even’s smile is the sweetest thing Isak has ever seen, has ever tasted.

He brings his hand up and places his thumb on Even’s plump bottom lip, which Even gives a quick kiss, practically giggling.

His eyes are filled with joy and Isak still can’t get over the fact that he looks at _him_ this way. Isak out of all the people in the world.

It’s an indescribable feeling.

“I dropped your pizza. Didn’t you want that?”

“I want you more,” Isak replies seriously.

Even pauses, taking in the sudden shift in Isak’s mood, the air around them losing its playfulness and being replaced by something… _more_.

Even leans down, kissing the corner of Isak’s lips softly.

“Oh yeah?” Even whispers against his skin.

And just this small gesture, the tiniest of touches has Isak’s eyes fluttering, his heart racing, his fingers tightening their hold on Even’s shirt.

Isak doesn’t hesitate.

He’s not in the mood for slow or sweet right now.

He’s not in the mood for the way Even treats him sometimes – so softly, like Isak is the most precious thing.

Like he’s everything.

Right now, he just wants Even. All of him. Everywhere. Hard and fast and _now_.

So, he curls his fingers into Even’s silky hair and pulls his lips to his own – making the kiss heavy and dirty from the start. Even responds immediately, opening his mouth to Isak’s, his tongue meeting the younger boy’s. He lets his body fall slightly, putting more of his weight on Isak as he continues to hold himself up. Every part of their bodies lining up.

Isak feels himself heating up quickly, unable to stop the burn in his stomach, the way he hardens so quickly in his pants.

He’s never been this affected by anyone in his life.

He reaches down between them and begins to open Even’s pants, popping the button.

“Woah, woah,” Even breathes against his lips, pulling back slightly, “here? Now? The boys are sleeping what if—”

Isak leans up, cutting Even’s words off with a heated kiss.

Isak knows Even’s words are true. This is risky, and they should stop.

But he can’t.

He’s too desperate.

Desperate to feel this connection between them. Desperate for Even to be close. So close.

He can tell Even is confused as to where this is coming from. But he doesn’t ask questions.

Isak is constantly amazed by the fact that Even just accepts things so easily. Isak’s quirks and limitations and moods.

He doesn’t deserve him.

God, he doesn’t deserve him.

He pulls back so he can look at Even properly. He makes sure his gaze doesn’t waver.

“Please,” Isak whispers, “please, I just want you. I want you now.”

Isak sees Even swallow thickly, watches as his pupils dilate, Isak’s words obviously affecting him.

He nods, leaning down and pressing his lips to Isak’s again.

This time it’s Even who reaches down, quickly undoing his jeans before shimming out of them, Isak following his lead. They both kick their pants off clumsily, only breaking their kiss when absolutely necessary.

Even brings a hand up to Isak’s face, pushing a blonde curl away from his damp forehead, running his fingertips across Isak’s cheek bone, and Isak can’t help but shiver.

He’s still not completely used to being treated this way. This… _gentle_.

But that thought flies from Isak’s head when Even moves forward to press his hips against Isak’s. Isak can feel him through the soft, thin material of his boxers. Just as hard as he is.

Even trails his fingers over the heat of Isak’s cheeks until he reaches his lips. He slowly traces the curve of Isak’s top lip, the dip in his bottom one, before he pushes his thumb to them.

The younger boy’s reaction is instant – his lips part and he welcomes the taste of Even’s flesh on his tongue. Isak nips at the finger lightly and it makes Even smile.

“Fuck, look at you,” Even says breathlessly, like he can’t believe this is actually happening.

 _Look at you_ , Isak wants to reply, but he’s too far gone for words.

Instead, he arches his back, letting out a small gasp as Even begins to slowly roll his hips, causing their dicks to slide together to create the most beautiful kind of friction.

Isak tightens his hold on Even’s shirt as the pleasure begins to spread through his body.

Even’s lips catch Isak’s attention for a moment – the way he licks them, leaving a trail of wetness behind, how he bites down into the soft flesh, how they part when he finally lets out a soft moan of pleasure.

Isak wants to kiss them again so badly.

But before he can –

He throws his head back on a particularly long, hard roll of Even’s hips, their dicks sliding against each other perfectly, causing the heat pooling in his stomach to grow hotter, his skin to burn deeper, the tingling in his groin to intensify.

Isak loves this. He loves everything about Even like this. The way he moves, how he knows just what to do to drive Isak wild, how he takes his time, how he takes care of Isak.

He loves this but –

Isak hitches his legs up around Even’s narrow hips, locking his ankles behind his back, and pulling him closer, demanding harder thrusts, demanding _more_.

He brings his gaze back to Even’s to see that his eyes are closed – his face scrunched up in pleasure, lips parted.

“More,” Isak breathes softly, causing Even’s eyes to flutter open, “More, Even. Please.”

Even’s arms are shaking, his lips quivering, and he lets out a small guttural groan – trying to keep quiet as not to wake the boys in the next room.

“Fuck Isak,” Even pants.

Isak arches his hips upwards, showing Even just how much he wants him, just how effected he is by the older boy. What he does to him.

And the rolls of Even’s hips become thrusts, harsher, harder, each one causing Isak to let out a gasp as the friction builds.

He snakes his arms up and around Even before digging his fingertips harshly into his back, making Even moan prettily in his ear.

The heat of his breath causes Isak to shutter, his skin to tingle, his mouth to water.

Isak is pushed further up the couch with each one of Even’s thrusts, Isak is pushing back, meeting every single one.

It’s a blur of moans and gasps and thrusts and groans.

Isak clenches his eyes shut tightly as he focuses on the pleasure Even is giving him. He feels the tingling at the base of his spine start to build but tries to keep his orgasm at bay. He wants to stay this way. He wants to stay with Even like this for just a little longer. Lost in the passion and bliss.

Suddenly, Isak feels teeth on his chin scraping lightly which turns into hot wet kisses trailing along his collarbone that cause his entire body to shake, he feels Even’s hot sweet breath cause goosebumps to rise on his skin.

And then his forehead presses against Isak’s.

“Look at me,” he commands in a throaty whisper.

And Isak has no choice but to obey.

When Even moans his name oh-so-sweetly he can’t help but let out a high embarrassing whine. His name on the older boy’s lips is something that always causes Isak to shiver-shatter apart. It makes Even feel…permanent somehow. Like, he’s Isak’s. Right here, right now he is Isak’s.

Even’s thrusts begin to lose their steadiness, they become more erratic and uncoordinated as he comes closer to his orgasm.

Isak begins to meet his thrusts against – harder, harsher, faster. The friction is too much now, begins to build and build and build until –

“Come baby,” Even says, seeing how close Isak is now, being just as close himself, “I want to see you come.”

Those words are Isak’s undoing. He throws his head back as his entire body begins to quiver from the overwhelming heat, the overwhelming pleasure that courses through his veins. He’s on fire from head to toe.

Even’s name leaves his lips as his orgasm hits and moments later he hears his own name slipping from Even’s.

And when they’re done, Even’s head rests on Isak’s chest as both boys try to catch their breath, a mess of bliss and sticky boxers, they laugh, satisfied and content.

Pure joy written on both their faces clear as day.

Even tilts his head up. His lips curved up at the edges. His eyes filled with such contentment that Isak just has to lean down and taste him like this – stealing a happy kiss.

Something beautiful, thank Isak can’t quite make out, is shining behind the other boy’s eyes.

He brings his lips back to Even’s for one more quick kiss.

“I—” Even begins to speak, his lips moving against the younger boy’s.

When he doesn’t continue Isak pulls back slightly, raising his eyebrows in question.

“You what?” he asks.

Even hesitates, conflict raging behind the softest color blue.

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, looking away and placing his head back on Isak’s chest.

Isak knows Even can hear the flutter-flips of his heart – wild and untamed – just for Even. Only for Even.

“Nothing,” Even continues, “I’m just really happy I met you.”

Isak’s getting better at pushing away the thoughts of _run_ , _escape_ , _hide_ when Even says things like this.

Sweet and earnest and true.

Terrifying and dangerous and wrong.

He’s getting better at losing the disgust that sometimes still fills his body and mind late at night.

He’s getting better at letting things happen.

Over the last few months Isak’s been able to get better control of his thoughts, his body’s natural instinct to run away.

His fingers don’t twitch any more.

His eyes don’t wander.

Now, instead of any of that, he brings his hand down to tangle his fingers into Even’s dirty-blonde waves and smiles – grounding himself as he inhales deeply, taking in the scent of the man in his arms.

Now, he answers honestly –

“I’m happy I met you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback makes me smile and squeal <3.
> 
> I know not much happens in this chapter but it's a stepping stone that needs to happen. More to come :)


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